


impatience is a virtue

by eatjamfast



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatjamfast/pseuds/eatjamfast
Summary: Five yearshe'd been wanting Shiro, and now he could run his tongue over his teeth and taste the toothpaste Shiro used.good old mutual-pining-completely-oblivious-to-how-the-other-is-feeling fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (welcome to my complete and utter disregard of the fact Lance's bday is in july yet they're all still at uni?? hey I didn't go I don't know how it works ok)

_Lance._

 

 

There were just a couple of things in Lance's life that made him feel like a total scrub.

For one, he was five days away from his twenty-third birthday and his parents were still paying his phone bills because his shitty minimum wage job couldn't cover them. He was five days away from his twenty-third birthday and his boss at aforementioned shitty minimum wage job hadn't shown any indication she remembered that Lance would then be in the ballpark for an _actual_ living wage. Five days away from his twenty-third birthday and he didn't have anything other than his own back to rely on for food, bills, _moisturiser_ (you know, essentials).

Not _all_ of his problems revolved around money. Well, _most_ of them did but definitely not all of them.

Example: Lance was five days away from his twenty-third birthday which would mark the five year anniversary of when he fell hopelessly, irrecoverably, _disgustingly_ in love with one of his room mates.

To say he was having a slight crisis was an understatement.

After spending every day since he was eighteen acting like each one was his last, he was becoming terrifyingly aware of the fact he wasn't a kid any more. It wasn't like he was old or anything, right? Right. He was still on top of his game, young and beautiful or whatever, but like. There was a time when you had to grow up and he was starting to feel like his impending birthday was kinda... it.

Twenty-two said: 'Have fun, live your life!”

Twenty-three said: 'Are you really happy working in a dingy hipster bar for the rest of your twenties?'

Lance couldn't help but feel like he was lagging behind all his mates. They'd all gone to uni, were working towards completing their degrees and looking ahead to something bigger while Lance was in the same place he'd been since he was eighteen. It wasn't like he regretted not continuing school, but only that he was still trying to figure out his place in the world. He certainly didn't feel like his place was behind a sticky bar.

The little existentialist pit he'd dug himself had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact Shiro – aforementioned room mate Lance wanted to bone in a very not-no-homo way – had just aced all his most recent tests and was probably going to become a spaceman so then he'd been a millionaire astronaut and would move out of the house and the chances of Shiro even wanting to hang out with him let alone touch dicks would be severely diminished because he'd realise what a loser Lance was and _oh. My God._

He needed a coffee.

Or five.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were one crotch hole away from being tearaway stripper garb, he trudged through to the kitchen.

It was late morning, and a warm breeze filtered into the room through the open window. Pidge was sat on the ledge, balancing her laptop on her knees at the same time as trying to light a cigarette and holding her tea. She was damn near gonna give Lance a panic attack.

He reached over and took the laptop off her knees.

“You're gonna drop it out the window,” he told her when she turned to glare at him.

“I have work to do,” she said, and her eyes were bloodshot with deep circles underneath them. “Give it back.”

“The whole point of a tea break, Pidge, is that you _take a break_ ,” Hunk pointed out from where he was sat at the table, surrounded by books.

“Tell that to my unfinished thesis,” she snapped, making grabby hands for the computer but Lance didn't give in. “Also you look like shit, Lance.”

“Wow, _thanks_ ,” Lance laughed, “You're not looking so hot yourself.”

“Yes but I own it. It's my aesthetic,” Pidge grinned, blowing smoke out of her nose.

“No,” Lance said, pouring himself a coffee from the pot next to Hunk, “You can't just not wash your hair for three days then say it's aesthetic. That's not how aesthetic _works_.”

“What time did you get in last night?” Hunk interrupted, before they could escalate into a full-blown bickering match.

“Like? Five?”

“ _Lance_ ,” Hunk said reprovingly.

“Not my fault! Rolo went home sick and Nyma doesn't know how to close up, so I had to stay,” he said defensively.

Shiro wandered into the kitchen, then, scrubbing a tired hand over his stubble. He looked like death had chewed him up, then spat him out again because he tasted like concentrated exam stress and caffeine tablets.

“Lance, you don't look too hot,” he said by way of greeting and Lance made a frustrated noise, Pidge just laughed.

“He was working late. Again,” Hunk said. “Shiro, please talk some sense into him.”

Shiro joined Hunk at the table, and suddenly Lance felt like he was getting an intervention from his dads which was _weird_. They looked up at him seriously, and Lance groaned. He plucked the dredges of Pidge's tab from her fingers and took a long drag, blowing smoke in her face when she complained.

“It's not worth it,” Shiro started and Lance rolled his eyes. He'd heard this spiel before, from every single one of his housemates even thought he was like ninety percent sure they only kept kicking with him instead of _kicking him out_ because he never charged them full price at the bar. “They don't pay you enough for you to keep working overtime.”

“Yea I know, man,” Lance sighed. “But I get time and a half for it and, you know, I really need the money.”

Hunk and Shiro exchanged a Look and Lance was shaking his head before they could say anything.

“Nope. No. Don't even say it – I'm not letting you cover my rent again, not after last time,” he said.

“You're running yourself into the ground,” Shiro said softly, and Hunk nodded in agreement. “I'm worried about you. I feel like I never see you around the house any more.”

Lance tried, he really did, with every teensy weensy little bit of willpower in him not to flush at those words. He could almost pretend they were worth more than they meant. Almost.

Look, it wasn't that he didn't value Shiro's friendship. It was, next to Hunk's, one of the strongest he'd ever had. But the difference between Shiro and Hunk was that Lance didn't go around sniffing the hoodies he left on the back of the couch like a fucking creeper. Not that he did that with Shiro's. If no one saw it, it never happened, as far as Lance was concerned. Shiro-dingers cat, right?

“I've, uh, been thinking about moving to a different job, anyway,” Lance admitted, stubbing his cig out in the ashtray and sitting opposite Shiro. He didn't like to admit being wrong, but six days a week sometimes on ten hour shifts on the radgey side of town was starting to wear down on him.

Hunk had buried his nose back into a biology textbook, but Shiro was still looking at him. He smiled warmly. Lance blinked, a little dazzled.

“Yeah?” he said, encouragingly.

“I dunno, though,” Lance said quickly. “I mean once my birthday's passed, hourly wages'll be bumped up anyway so... we'll see. Might be able to work less if I'm earning more, right? It's not like I hate my job.”

“You don't have to hate it for it to be bad for you, Lance,” Shiro said softly. Too softly.

Okay so like, Lance often fancied himself a charming guy. He knew he was good-looking, he supposed people laughed at his jokes enough for him to be funny, and the steadily depleting body spray Pidge had bought him last Christmas meant he smelled like a teenage girl's One Direction wet dream at all times.

But living with his room right next door to Shiro's, and sharing the second floor bathroom with him, meant the guy knew that was just one facet of Lance – he'd seen him in every possible state he could have wanted to, or in many cases _not_ wanted to. He'd seen Lance wearing his creepy sheet masks, seen him asleep over the toilet bowl after a night out, hell, the guy had seen him when he hadn't plucked his eyebrows after three weeks straight. And that was not something he let many people see.

Maybe that was the problem. When you've seen someone at their most disgusting before you're dating, then the magic is kind of ruined. Annoyingly, in all ways except romantic they could be the perfect couple. Good friends? Check. Lived together? Check. Seen each other naked more than a few times? Check. Got to kiss each other's stupid faces every day? Uh. Not so checked. As much as Lance would love it to be, Shiro just wasn't interested. Or, he'd never shown any interest in him that way at least as far as Lance could tell.

“What you sayin' today, anyway?” Shiro asked, rudely interrupting his downward spiral.

“Got the next two days off so I'm probs out tonight,” Lance shrugged. “I think Allura and Keith wanted to go for cocktails.”

“When do they _not_ wanna go for cocktails?” Pidge snickered.

“Hey, I don't give two claps if they're paying,” Lance said.

Shiro frowned.

“What?” Lance said, arching a brow.

Shiro looked down at his coffee. “Just wondering when you're gonna get a good night's sleep is all.”

Lance scoffed, waving a dismissive hand,“I won't stay out late!”

 

**

It was twelve-thirty.

He'd missed the last bus, so it was looking like he'd be walking home.

Allura was currently staring at him like he'd sprouted a second head, and Lance was tilting dangerously towards one side until Keith moved to keep him propped up, rolling his eyes.

“Me and Shiro are meant to be together,” he slurred, reaching out to squeeze her arm. “He jus' doesn't know it yet.”

“Oh, no. Lance. _No_ , not this again,” Allura said firmly, shaking him.

“Uh, Lance _yes_.”

Keith piped up, “I would actually like to see where he's going with this.”

Lance grinned at him, thrusting out his fist for a bump.

“Keith, put your phone away, if I find out you've put him on you instagram story while he's sparko I won't let you use my bath bombs,” Allura snapped, and she propped Lance upright before chugging an alarming amount of her wine. She placed the glass back down on the table, and narrowed her eyes as Lance, “And you. Don't you think its time you got over this?”

Lance shook his head with a pout, looking to Keith for support only to find he'd scarpered. He spotted him back at the counter, flipping his mullet as he eyed up the bartender. Gross.

“Allura. I just... he thinks we're friends. But what he doesn't realise is... I'm bi.” He made an explosion noise as he dropped that bomb, because obviously Allura's silence meant he had blown her mind.

Instead of looking suitably mind-blown, she just pinched the bridge of her nose with a long-suffering sigh. “One, I think he _knows_ you're bi. Two, so what? Bi people can't have friends? I feel like that's not very progressive of you.”

Lance groaned. She wasn't getting it. He took another dainty sip from his cocktail as he thought long and hard about making his point as clear as possible.

“I mean,” he said after several more pulls from his straw, “he doesn't know that I know he's gay and he doesn't know that I know he doesn't know I'm bi.”

“Every time I talk to you my brain cells literally disintegrate. Please use your words, darling.”

“He's gay. I'm bi. I fancy him, but obviously I can't just tell him that, can I?” He leaned in, pulling her closer by the elbow because this was top secret stuff that no errant Keiths should overhear and report back to any Shiros. “I watched this film last night where these two people bumped into each other in a cafe and fell in love, but didn't realise it until they kept bumping into one another.”

Allura squinted at him. “But you see each other every day and he still hadn't fallen in love with you.”

“Because it wasn't a cafe!” Lance insisted. “Or a bar, or the constellation section of a museum!”

“He went to the bar last week and saw you at work.”

“S'different. I was at _work_.”

“Exactly. You would have looked sluttier than usual for tips and he still didn't fancy you. Lance, I really think you should try and get over this before you embarrass yourself.”

Even though Lance knew her words were coming from a good place, he couldn't help the way his bottom lip wobbled when he looked up at her, his drunken brain thinking that was the _worst_ thing she could have possibly said in that moment.

“Well, what about you and Lotor?” Lance brought up, out of spite.

Allura cried out, covering his mouth with her hand. Keith had returned and looked between the two of them with wide eyes as he placed another round of drinks in front of them.

“I can't be seen with that lunatic!” Allura hissed, and both boys stared at her blankly. “Do you know what he does for a living?”

Lance shook his head, and Keith stayed silent.

“He works for his dad at some big bucks business and he looks like he walked straight from a L'Oriel advert! He uses the same shade of hair dye I do, and he's a _businessman_!”

“So... you broke up with him because his hair is nicer than yours?” Keith asked slowly.

“No, I'm breaking up with him because he said he wanted me to go to his Scientology church with him but he's so clever and well-rounded the only way I can make digs at him is by calling him a wanker and saying he dresses like he belongs in a high-fashion circus.”

“Oh. Right,” Lance said lightly, patting her shoulder sympathetically. He was glad they'd steered the conversation away from his hopeless love life.

“So when are you gonna plant a fat one on Shiro?” Keith said around his straw.

Or not.

“Sod _off_ , Keith!” Lance grunted.

“I'm just saying. It's getting kind of sad watching you two pine after one another,” he shrugged and Allura looked at him with an arched brow. He floundered, backtracking, “Uh you. Singular. Watching you. I – me – I'm going to go... over there.”

“Hold it!” Allura barked, and Keith froze. Lance was feeling more than a little confused. “ 'You two'?”

“I know nothing!” Keith yelped as Allura reached out to take his shoulder in a vice-like grip.

“You know something,” she ground out. “How long have you been watching Lance get drunk and cry for without mentioning anything!”

Keith looked to Lance guiltily, and Lance narrowed his eyes.

“He's not told me anything,” Keith said finally, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably when Allura let go of him. “I _swear_. But I've seen him stare at you way more than is necessary and also he stole your t-shirt last week and I found it and he pretended your washing got mixed up in his.”

“Which t-shirt?”

“Does it matter?”

“ _Which_. _T-shirt_.”

“Your stupidly expensive white one!” Keith said, and Lance just stared. That accounted for just about half his wardrobe, “From All Saints!” he added.

“ _Phew_ ,” Lance sighed in relief, “That one was clean.”

“I think he would have preferred it _dirrrrrrty,_ ” Keith smirked, and Allura smacked him upside the head.

A undeniably fantastic idea flittered into Lance's mind, and he looked at his friends with a wide smile, wiggling his eyebrows. “I'm gonna go home,” he announced.

“Why?” Allura asked slowly, like she was expecting the worst. _Oh ye of little faith,_ Lance thought.

“So I can profess my undying love to Takashi Shirogane in the form of a quickie!” He yelled over the music, and a few people turned to glare at him. He stuck his tongue out at them, and found both Keith and Allura looking at him with the universal expression of 'No Lance'.

“Oh nope. No. We're not doing that, dude.” Keith shook his head.

“Why not?” Lance pouted.

“Well now it has come to light that Allura should never give you advice again – ”

“ _Hey!_ ”

“Oh, I'm sorry Miss 'Just Let it Go', were you saying something?” Lance said, prissy. He lifted his pinky and stared at her as he sucked daintily on his straw. Allura fell silent.

“ _As I was saying_ , you gotta play the long game,” Keith continued.

“Is that what you're playing with that bartender over there?” Lance asked sarcastically.

“We're talking about you!” Keith snapped, “Not me!” His cheeks went pink, and he looked over to the cute bartender again but didn't get a hot second from him.

“Whatever,” Lance said, “So tell me about this long game you seem to be so good at.”

“Knives.” he said simply.

Had Lance heard him right?

“Uh...?”

“ _Knives_ ,” he said again.

Yes. Apparently he had.

“I'm not sure where ya going with this, buddy,” Lance said warily.

“It's like knives – that's what I'm trying to say,” he said as flipped his fringe out of his eyes.

“I got that much,” Lance laughed, “What the fuck does it mean?”

Keith rolled his eyes condescendingly, and looked at Allura like she was supposed to understand but she just curled her upper lip at him in disgust. That was an expression she wore with increasing frequency when she hung out with them, and Lance wasn't sure if he should be worried about it.

“Seriously? Do I really have to explain myself?” He scoffed when Allura and Lance stared at him blankly, tilting their heads to the side at the same time. “ _Fine_. So. Knives, yeah? The more you use them the blunter they get.”

“I _really_ hope you're going somewhere with this,” Allura muttered, checking her watch.

“I am – I am I swear. Knives get blunter when you use them more, and you don't wanna use them. Shiro has used you too much, IE: he's hung out with you too much to be interested in how sharp you could be.”

“That makes no sense,” Allura said.

“It makes so much sense!” Keith protested.

“I was kind of more into the romcom idea,” Lance mumbled. “Like the movie. We need to orchestrate a situation by which he drops his books or something and when I pick them up for him, he looks up at me through his lashes and realises how roguishly handsome I am and we almost kiss but I pull away at he last second and say 'I'm not good for you' then he wants me even more – ”

“Lance, you need to stop reading Twilight,” Keith said gently, his eyes pitying.

“You can still enjoy a piece of media and be critical of its flaws, Keith!”

“Besides,” Allura butted in, “You're trying to make a fateful encounter by orchestrating it. Fate doesn't work like that.”

“It is fate,” Lance said stubbornly. “ _Organised_ fate.”

“Again – my braincells are disintegrating as we speak,” Allura said.

“Anything is better than creeping into his room in the middle of the night and screaming your undying love at him,” Keith said, and Lance was glad at least someone here was being constructive. “But also I think that we really should get home. I'm sleepy.” Keith made a big point of stretching and yawning loudly, throwing a pathetic attempt at a subtle look over his shoulder to try catch the bar guy's eye again. He didn't look up from the drinks he was making and Keith visibly deflated.

Lance patted his shoulder sympathetically, and then smiled winsomely, “Coffee morning at some point next week though, ladies. We need to organise my movie-moment.”

**

Surprisingly, Lance woke up at nine in the morning with no hangover to speak of.

It was a Tuesday, so he knew everyone would be at school and thus had no qualms about the fact he was wandering out of his room wearing nothing but socks and a pair of violently pink briefs with little flamingos all over them.

Yawning, he decided that he'd spend his day off being productive mostly because the kitchen was a disaster and his hand had stuck to the side with whatever questionable substance had been spilled on it when he made himself some breakfast.

It was an Enrique Iglesias kind of day, and he gave himself over to the overwhelming urge to dance as he used half a bottle of Dettol on the kitchen counters. The whole room stank of artificial lemons and antibacterial, and it made Lance dizzy as he rolled his body along to the beat, socks sliding on the tiles when he lifted his hips into a tight gyration, belting out the words –

“Can you turn – ”

Lance froze as he looked at Shiro stood in the doorway with wide eyes.

His entire body was held still halfway through pushing his hips forwards, hands high above holding a sponge and a cloth.

Shiro stared at him, mouth open a little, then his gaze tracked down to the pink underwear, then back up to his face. Everything Keith said last night came rushing back to him, and Lance wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to act. Five years is a long time to pretend not to be in love with someone but now the game had apparently changed. Lance didn't know if he should change _his_ game along with it.

Enrique continued to sing, and Lance lowered his hands awkwardly.

“ _Buenos días,_ ” Lance offered with a sunny smile.

“What are you _doing_?” Shiro managed

“Appreciating my mother's favourite singer?” Which was true enough. His mam loved Enrique. _Even_ after he had to tell her Tonight I'm Loving You was originally Tonight I'm Fucking You. And Lance's mam did not like it when men swore. Enrique was just That Good.

“Did your mother buy you that underwear too?” Shiro retorted.

“No.”

“Oh, thank god – ”

“My abuelita did.”

“Oh, God _why_?”

“She said I needed to dress to impress.”

“You're dressing to _something_.”

“Don't lie,” Lance chuckled, and started wiping down the counter, “You like what you see.”

Shiro didn't say anything, and Lance kept his head down because he didn't think he could handle seeing the look on Shiro's face after such a blatant flirt.

“Maybe so,” Shiro said on a sigh, and Lance's head whipped up to look at him in surprise to find Shiro smirking at him, “But I was trying to have a lie-in and your music woke me up, so I wouldn't _tell_ you that.”

Lance's brain blanked out for a second, and he hoped his embarrassment wasn't super obvious on his face. Knew by the way Shiro's smirk widened that it was.

“What did you have for breakfast?” Shiro asked smoothly, hopping up onto a dry patch of the kitchen counter. He looked down at Lance in a way that made it seem like he'd just asked if Lance wanted to have Shiro for breakfast. Maybe he should say that.

“Smarties cereal,” Lanced replied instead, scrubbing the counters around Shiro's thighs, trying not to stare at them too much.

“I didn't even know Smarties made a cereal,” Shiro said in disgust. _Go eat some protein powder, judgey._

“They don't,” Lance said, “It was just Smarties in a bowl of milk. Pidge started padlocking her cupboard so I couldn't steal her granola.”

“I worry for your safety sometimes.”

“I like to live life on the edge, Shiro,” Lance said, looking up at him with a wink. Was the wink too much? How did one move from hanging around their friend fully dressed to shamelessly flirting with them half-naked as Pitbul rapped about popping it and locking it? Was there even a possible seamless transition in this situation? Lance didn't know.

All he understood was that he _wasn't_ imagining the coy glint to Shiro's eyes as he watched Lance shimmy backwards towards the washing up. Fuck it. Lance was going to be a shining example of how you can look peng elbow-deep in dirty dish water even if it killed him.

“Aren't you supposed to be in class today, anyway?” Lance threw a look over his shoulder.

“I deserve a day off,” Shiro said. “And I could say the same for you.”

Lance made an uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat. “Ugh, can we please leave it for today?”

“Alright, alright,” Shiro sighed. “ _You should quit your job_ – sorry, sorry! Needed to get the last word in,” he added quickly and Lance rolled his eyes. “Wanna watch some Netflix or something?”

“Sure. Go grab your laptop and you can help me clean at the same time,” Lance nodded, and Shiro stared at him in something like disbelief – oh. _Oh_. Shiro wanted to _watch Netflix_.

“Why?” he said once Shiro sent those brainwaves towards him.

“Because I want an excuse to suck your dick,” Shiro said, out of nowhere. Well.

“ _Why_?”

“Because I'm fed up of beating around the bush, Lance.” He hopped off the counter, and Lance threw the plate he'd been scrubbing into the skink as he was backed into the wall, chest heaving. Their lips were a the barest inch apart, and Lance's breathing hitched as his eyes flicked between the mouth he would very much so like to be kissing and the eyes he'd like to write mushy poetry about. “Also Keith sent me a snapchat of you crying last night.”

“And you were turned on by me crying?” Lance joked, but his voice cracked as he said it so it mostly just sounded like he was being a massive wimp.

“Oh – oh, my God!” Came Hunk's horrified voice.

Lance almost smacked his head against Shiro's in an attempt to jump away from him. He looked up guiltily at Hunk, whose messenger bag was slung over his shoulder, keys dangling limply from his hand.

“Um.”

“Are you two shagging?” Hunk asked incredulously.

“No!” they both yelped at the same time.

He looked even more upset, then. “Were you _about_ to?”

“I – ” Lance began.

“Actually, no,” Hunk interrupted, pulling a face. “Nope. I don't wanna know.” He turned on his heel, and Lance heard the front door shut a few seconds later. Well, that hadn't been at _all_ embarrassing.

Shiro, apparently, had no such reservations and reeled Lance back towards him with a cheeky smile.

He slid a hand around to the nape of Lance's neck and pressed their lips together without any hesitation.

Lance made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, and then relaxed into the kiss, twining his arms around Shiro's shoulders and toying with the buzzed hair at the back of his head. Shiro didn't kiss like Lance thought he would, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

Shiro kissed dirty. It was wet and sensual, with slicks of tongue that followed no rhythm except the idea of _closer_.

Shiro flipped them back to their original positioning, and Lance's back bumped against the wall as Shiro shoved him up against it with a strength that shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. Even though Shiro only had about an inch on him, he still managed to make Lance feel tiny against the hard planes of muscles that were pressed up against him. He was clinging to those broad shoulders, fingers clutched in the fabric of Shiro's tee and trying not to whimper at the feel of the solid skin underneath it.

Moaning, Shiro shoved a knee between Lance's legs, grinding up roughly as he flicked his tongue underneath Lance's top lip. Lance was suddenly overwhelmed, and tore his mouth away as he gasped for air. Shiro lowered his head to lick a stripe of heat up Lance's neck, drawing a mewl out of him before he licked his lips and leaned back.

“Mm, good,” he looked down at Lance with dark, appraising eyes then stepped away from him, “I gotta go to class. Catch you later.”

“W – what? _Shiro_!” Lance protested as he walked away, swaying his hips coquettishly. “You said you were taking a day off!”

“Changed my mind,” Shiro winked, then Lance heard his bedroom door shut. He was still resting against the wall, heart beating a mile a minute when the front door opened and closed about five minutes later.

“Tease,” he muttered, finally feeling like his legs weren't entirely made of jelly.

OK. So that just happened.

Lance felt the whiplash of the situation intensely and he leaned against the kitchen sink, hand fluttering to his neck as though he could still feel Shiro's lips against it.

_Five years_ he'd been wanting Shiro, and now he could run his tongue over his teeth and taste the toothpaste Shiro used. He felt like his brain was still trying to play catch-up because just yesterday he'd compared Shiro to his _dad_. That was their relationship, and Lance had resigned himself to that cold hard truth no matter what he rambled about when he was drunk.

Speaking of – what the fuck did Keith send him that would set into motion the events from the last fifteen minutes? He felt a little bit sick thinking about it. He'd said a lot of stupid shit last night, and he didn't think any of it would warrant playing tonsil tennis in the kitchen at half nine in the morning.

Also it was super unfair of Shiro to turn Lance's entire world on its head then leave for class like nothing of any significance had happened. Was it just a game? Because Lance could play games.

The music switched from heavy, suggestive club beats to something slower, more romantic and Lance's stomach flipped unpleasantly. He snatched his phone off the counter and flicked through his contacts until he found Keith's name.

 

**To: Keith**

_ok what the FUCK did u send shiro LN? Call me!!!!! ur in big trouble!!!!_

 

**From: Keith**

_o shit did it work? Canny call am in lecture rn_

 

**To: Keith**

_I HATE YOU CALL ME RIGHT NOW KEITH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

 

**From: Keith**

_wow rude_

 

_I call u when im out ok?_

 

_Lance?_

 

_W/e keep ur phone on loud_

 

 

He didn't dignify Keith with a response because he was in Lance's bad books right now. Wait, good books. No. Bad books. It was an even divide. On one hand, Lance got to kiss Shiro. On the other hand, Shiro had acted like that was the only thing he wanted from him.

Oh god. Realisation dawned on him. This was a _friends with benefits_ situation.

This was a totally different ballgame than the one he was hoping for, and he sent a silent prayer that he was blowing shit out of proportion and that Shiro was just showing him physically that he wanted to be the B word instead of, you know, _with words_ like a normal person.

Then again, if this was the closest he'd get to Shiro then this was what he'd take. Hell, he'd fucked around with people no-feelings-styles before and it had always ended amicably, so even if worst came to worst then why should Shiro and Lance be any different?

Standing in the kitchen in his underwear suddenly made him feel very vulnerable, awkward even, when he was trying to process the fact he'd just had Shiro's tongue shoved down his throat.

As he made his way back to his bedroom, his phone trilled out and Keith's grumpy face popped up on the screen.

“What did you do,” Lance snapped into the receiver.

“ _I was helping_!” Keith retorted.

“Tell me what you sent him, Keith,” Lance said as he placed the phone atop his drawers, quickly tapping the speakerphone button.

“ _It was a video of you_.”

“Try again, bitch,” he snarled, fishing a t-shirt out and pulling it over his head.

“ _You were sat on the wall outside the pub, you had a Malboro in your hand and the lighting was actually very flattering –_ ”

“Tell me. Right now or I'm going to break into your room and burn your signed My Chemical Romance picture, I know you hide it in that box under your bed and I have the lighter in my – ”

“ _Alright, jesus_!” Keith yelped, “ _You were crying about how you wanted to chow down on, and I quote, 'Shiro's monster cock'._ ”

“ _Ay_ Keith _ya_! What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Lance yelled, “I'm burning it anyway you absolute moron!”

“ _Why, did he do something?_ ” Keith asked excitedly, ignoring his threat.

“He kissed me! Hunk walked in on us, it was awful!”

“ _Wow, I didn't think it would work that fast. So much for the long game_.”

A frustrated sound wormed its way out of Lance and he gritted his teeth. “I'm so _angry_ at you right now.”

“ _Why_?”

“Because you fucked everything up! He kissed me then left like nothing happened,” Lance wailed into the jeans he pulled free from his draw.

“ _Oh._ ”

“Yeah, 'oh'! What does it mean?”

“ _I dunno._ ”

“YOU DUNNO!?” Lance screeched, “Keith Steven Kogane I am going to slit your fucking throat you cu – ”

“ _Hey, hey, hey,_ ” Keith said quickly. “ _It's not a bad thing right? You've been after the guy for years, Lance. I thought this was what you'd want._ ”

“It is,” Lance groaned. “That's the problem.”

“ _Do explain, in your inside voice please because I don't think my eardrum can handle any more of your screaming. You sound like Allura when I stole her eyeliner that one time_.”

“Rude. But also honest. We didn't talk about it. We just snogged against the wall and then he left, he winked at me, too, but I don't know what to think,” he sighed, wiggling himself into his trousers before picking up the phone and pressing it to his ear.

“ _Don't think,_ ” he could almost picture Keith shrugging as he said it. “ _Just roll with it. You've got nothing to lose right_?”

“Uh. Dude. A five-year strong friendship?”

“ _If you think sex can ruin your friendship, clearly it's not strong enough. I gotta go, Lance, please don't burn any of my shit, 'kay?_ ”

Before Lance could snipe a reply he hung up, and Lance was left staring at his phone like he could make it explode just by looking at it.

For the entire day, the only way he could distract himself was by cleaning the entire house from top to tail, taking out his frustration on the bathroom tiles. It helped, but he wasn't looking forward to work that night, because it would mean he wouldn't get to see Shiro before he started.

That meant they'd go even longer than he'd like without talking about what was going on between them. Should they even talk about it? Was it going to be some big unspoken thing between them? Lance heaved out a sigh because this was what he did. He was an over thinker, and it would be his downfall.

**

Lance got home earlier from work than usual; 3AM. It had been a nice surprise, and a welcome one given all he'd been able to think about all night was the press of Shiro's body against his as they kissed yesterday.

Lance was in the process of sneaking to Shiro's room, wondering if he'd be mad if he woke him up to ask for a smooch when a sniffing noise, eerie green glow and hunched over form in the corner of the living made his heart jump into his throat.

He screamed.

Pidge screamed.

She was huddled on the armchair, laptop balanced on her knees as the light from her coding screen limned her face in a sickly glow. There was the sound of a door slamming, and Hunk rushed into the room wild-eyed and panting.

“Who died?!” he cried out, pulling his robe around himself.

“ _Goblin_!” Lance howled, throwing a pillow at Pidge. “You're a little green goblin!”

“What does that even mean!” she shrieked, standing up.

“Why do you always sit in the dark like that!” he demanded, clutching his chest dramatically.

“I'm nocturnal!” Pidge spat out.

“You're no-turnal – ”

“ – Not a thing,” Hunk said.

“ – You never _sleep_!” Lance finished like Hunk hadn't interrupted him. “I just wanted some tea, and instead I get a heart attack!”

“Whatever. Don't be mean to me or I'll tell Keith you steal his expensive M&S blends.”

“ _Lance_!” came Keith's disparaging voice as he entered the room. Being that his room was on the first floor, the commotion probably woke him up like it did Hunk.

“ _Pidge!_ ” Lance cried out, throwing another pillow at her. “Keith, it's not what you think! I leave money in your room for it!”

“You asshole! I thought the ghost was giving me money!” Keith gasped, scandalised.

“There is no ghost! I was the ghost every time! Let the ghost thing go!” Lance said, shaking his head in exasperation.

Keith unlooped the tie from around his dressing gown and snapped it threateningly at Lance. "I won't hesitate, _bitch_!"

“Fight, fight, fight, FIGHT, _FIGHT, FIGHT_!” Pidge had started yelling, lobbing pillows at them both.

Hunk stared in dismay at the scene in front of him as it slowly descended into chaos. Pidge had started lobbing crisps at Lance and Keith, still chanting, as they grappled with one another, shouting about ghosts and money and tea and Hunk was clearly just about at the end of his tether when Shiro emerged from the darkness of the hallway and everyone went quiet at the look of pure thunder on his face.

“What,” he began quietly. “Is going on?”

“ _Pidge – ”_

“ _Lance – ”_

“ _Keith_ – ”

“ – started it!” they all finished, panting as they stared at Shiro.

Lance flushed as Shiro's gaze settled on him, glittering with promise before he trained his expression back into one of amused annoyance as he looked between the rest of their housemates.

“Can you please just go to bed, guys? I have a test tomorrow and I wanted some decent sleep before it,” he sighed, playing the guilt card because everyone in the house knew making Shiro sad was on par with kicking a puppy.

They all mumbled their apologies as they trailed out of the lounge. Pidge was chuntering under her breath, glaring at Lance as she walked past him, and deliberately bumped their shoulders together. Man, as much as he loved Pidge, she could be a massive bitch whenever she was grouchy. He had no intentions of rescinding his 'green goblin' statement because guess what? The truth hurt.

A hand caught Lance by the elbow as he ducked out with the rest of them, and he looked up in surprise at Shiro, who met his gaze evenly. Lance wondered how he looked so calm, because _his_ heart felt like it was in his throat and was fairly sure it showed on his face too.

“Come with me,” Shiro said softly, and although he smiled warmly there was a dark note to his voice that made Lance shiver in anticipation.

He led Lance to his room, before quietly shutting the door behind them. Shiro's room was immaculate for all but his overflowing desk, as usual, and his bed didn't look slept in at all. Lance eyed it suspiciously.

“Sleeping for the test tomorrow?” he asked dubiously, because looking at the state of that desk and the lack of wrinkles in the duvet, he didn't believe that one bit.

Shiro ignored him, leaning against the door and effectively blocking Lance's exit. He swallowed audibly, eyes flicking between the palm Shiro was resting on the handle and the small smile twisting his lips up.

_Whatever, didn't need an exit anyway._

“You disturbed my sleep. Again.”

“Silly Shiro,” Lance said, cocking his hip. “Everyone in this house knows you don't sleep.”

Shiro chuckled, and took a step forward. Lance stepped backwards.

“I was napping at the desk, which is good enough,” Shiro said, keeping his voice light as he continued to back Lance up into the bedroom, shepherding him with his body until Lance felt the edge of the mattress pressing into his knees. Shiro trailed a hand down his sternum with surprising gentleness, then pressed the flat of his palm into Lance's stomach, forcing him down onto the bed roughly.

“Sorry,” Lance said as though Shiro wasn't crawling up his body to straddle his thighs. Which, holy shit, he totally was. And having that weight pressing him down was – fuck, it was really good.

“You don't sound very sorry,” Shiro whispered, leaning down until he could press shallow kisses to the side of Lance's neck, licking slowly at his pulse point. He used each press of his lips to make his way up to Lance's mouth.

Like, yeah, their first kiss had been pretty fucking mind-blowing and everything but it was _nothing_ compared to the soft pressure of Shiro's tongue against his own while he was sprawled out on his bed, nothing compared to the way Shiro's hands were running up his side in continuous lines of sensation that were building upon each other until Lance had to check himself. He pulled back a little, tipping his head back as far away as the mattress would allow.

Kissing Shiro was fantastic, it really was, but he didn't wanna let himself get consumed by how good it felt. He didn't think he could handle having a meaningless jolt about at the same time as being kissed like that. Like he was _loved_.

He didn't doubt that Shiro loved him, Lance just knew it wasn't in the way he wanted it.

“How about I show you just how sorry I am?” Lance murmured, looking up at Shiro through his lashes demurely. He sneaked a hand between their bellies and brushed his fingers over the straining fabric at Shiro's cock meaningfully.

“Nah,” Shiro licked his lips, gaze raking down Lance's body as he sat up on his haunches and away from Lance's touch. “I think I'll show you just what happens when you wake the sleeping lion.”

A surprise laugh bubbled its way out of Lance's chest. “ _Okay_ , big guy. Over dramatic much?”

_Mistake,_ the alarm bells in Lance's head chimed because something darkened on Shiro's face, then.

In a flash, he hauled Lance bodily up the bed, tossing him with exhilarating strength onto the pillows. Lance gasped, wriggling so he landed more comfortably. Shiro gave him little time to settle, and crawled up the bed towards him in a way that made Lance's brain just kinda... _Poof_. Blank out for a second because holy fuck he was not prepared for Shiro to actually do his best sexy impression of a big cat.

Lance didn't think _anyone_ could ever be prepared for the sight of Takashi Shirogane crawling up the bed towards them, honestly.

He pushed Lance's legs apart, and the stretch of Shiro's body pressing his thighs flat to the bed ached in the best way. Pressed down into the bed, Lance gasped when he felt teeth sink into his neck. A firm tongue rolled the skin between the teeth, and Lance knew he'd have a majorly impressive hicky there tomorrow. He used to think they were trashy, but realised he could get on board with it if it was Shiro marking him up.

Crying out, he felt dizzy as Shiro continued biting him. This was something he didn't know he was into, but now it was happening to him he never wanted to feel anything but the sweet pain-pleasure of Shiro's canines nipping at the sensitive skin at the hollow of his throat. Shocked, turned on and little bit nervous he tried to grind up but his hips were pinned under Shiro's so heavily he couldn't get leverage to find the friction he was craving.

“What about your test?” Lance forced out through his pants.

Shiro chuckled low, his voice velvet smooth, “There is no test. I was doing an essay that's due in two weeks. Playing the pity card was the fastest way to get _them_ out of that room, and to get _you_ in _my_ room.”

“O – oh,” Lance said, blinking.

He lifted his arms helpfully as Shiro leaned back to pull his shirt off, then his own. Lance had seen Shiro with less clothing than this before, so he shouldn't be as flustered as he is but in his defence he'd never seen Shiro in this _situation_ before – never with the flush from his face smattering the pale skin on his neck and chest, never with that thin sheen on sweat clinging to his skin.

Shiro nipped and licked his way down Lance's chest until his lips fluttered over the thin, meticulously groomed happy trail on his tummy. He looked up at Lance with liquid eyes, fingers hesitating where they rested on the waistband of his jeans.

“Yeah,” Lance breathed, nodding, “Fuck yeah.”

Shiro's reaction was immediate, and he deftly made short work of the fastenings on Lance's jeans. No time wasted, no teasing, no more coy chit-chat. Shiro yanked down Lance's briefs and trousers halfway down his thighs and just _went to town_.

He had to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle to moan that exploded from his chest as Shiro wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and took the rest into his mouth. Lance's entire universe zeroed in on the way Shiro's tongue worked on the underside of his dick, flicking with perfect precision under the head before sucking him back down. He could feel the softness of Shiro's throat flexing against him.

“Fuck!” he cried out, “Holt shit how, _a – ah,_ how are you so good at this?”

Shiro's dark eyes darted up to meet his, and Lance knew he was sending him 'do you really want me to pull of an tell you' vibes so Lance just flopped back against the bed. The way Shiro looked in that moment was too hot – the way his eyes burned into Lance's, how his lips were pulled taught around his cock – it would have pushed him over the edge if he looked at him a second longer.

So he focused on the sensations instead, the way Shiro had his hips pinned to the bed as he ruined Lance's life with that infernal heat and the wet sounds whenever he pulled back to breathe in through his nose. The way Shiro groaned in response to Lance's moans was _intoxicating_.

All too soon, he felt his stomach tighten, his toes curl, and managed to bleat out a garbled warning only seconds before he came.

Shiro took it like a fucking champ, not pulling off, slurping obscenely.

Lance could honestly say he'd never slept with someone who'd swallowed before and he didn't know if he could ever go back. Disgusting as it sounded, he literally felt like Shiro was sucking the jizz outta him before it had even left his body. _Fucking hell_ he'd never felt anything like it.

When Shiro pulled off, Lance raised his head and whimpered as he crawled up the bed like a goddamn big cat again to press their lips together, shoving his tongue into Lance's mouth and dumping come on his tongue. Surprised, Lance automatically swallowed and made a sound of disgust.

“Shiro! Gross!” he complained, shoving at his shoulder with a laugh.

“Sharing is caring,” Shiro smirked. Then he ground his hips down onto Lance's thigh, raising his brows. “Feel like sharing the love?”

_Love_.

That word shouldn't have affected Lance as much as it did, and he nodded haplessly because getting his hands on Shiro was pretty much his top priority right now. Literally nothing was more important. Pidge could have dropped her laptop in the bath and electrocuted herself and he still wouldn't have moved from where he was pinned under Shiro's weight. Okay, that was an exaggeration. He'd call an ambulance from where he was then pretend he'd not heard her screaming.

He let his hands worm between their bodies, dipping his hand into the waistband of Shiro's sweatpants, shoving them down. Lance could scarcely breathe when he finally felt the thick weight of Shiro's cock nestled against his palm, twitching under exploratory fingers. He jacked Shiro leisurely, testing the waters so to speak until he resolutely ignored the awkward angle of his wrist to drag his skin over Shiro's with a little more finesse.

“Yeah, Lance, just like that,” Shiro breathed, nosing at his collar bones. He could feel hot puffs of air against his skin, coloured with quiet, wet sounds every time he did something good. It was easy to figure out a rhythm from that, listening to the tiny increments in his breathing, and repeating the movements of his hand that make him shudder, circling him loosely on the downstroke and tightening his grip at the head, pressing his thumb to the ridge he found there.

“S'it good?”

“Like you need to ask,” Shiro said, brokenly, and he was thrusting his hips jerkily into Lance's curled fingers. Lance let out a quiet laugh, and used his free hand to tilt Shiro's chin upwards, pressing their open mouths together and slicking his tongue against Shiro messily. He groaned, leaning hard into Lance's kisses, not caring much for finesse and he took careful control of the kiss and sank his teeth into the swell of Lance's bottom lips with a grunt.

Lance whined, speeding up his hand and tightening the press of his fingers against his shaft.

He felt Shiro gasp above him. He stiffened and then wetness spilled against Lance's wrist. Shiro fucked up into the circle of Lance's fingers weakly until he shied away from the touch, oversensitive.

There was a brief moment where they rested their foreheads together, breath intermingling, and Lance was shocked at the intimacy of the moment. It felt wrong. It made his gut twist unpleasantly and he pushed gently at Shiro until he flopped onto his back next to him. Lance reached over his listless body to grab some tissues off the bedside table to make for a quick clean-up.

He wriggled himself back into his pants and jeans, not bothering to button up the fly and he fished his cigs out his back pocket. Miraculously, only one of them had snapped during the whole... _thing_. What was Lance supposed to even _call_ it? Hookup felt too blasé given they've been mates for years, but there really wasn't any other word for it, honestly.

Shoving the filter between his lips, he fumbled the lighter with shaking fingers. It fell on on Shiro's chest, and he picked it up and squinted at it, then at the cigarette in Lance's mouth. Sighing, Shiro reached onto his cabinet and handed Lance a half-empty mug with a pointed look.

As Shiro flicked the lighter for Lance, he couldn't help but blurt out on a smoky exhale, “This isn't going to change anything is it?”

Shiro's expression stayed the same, and Lance felt a tiny hairline crack appear in his heart. That was not the look he wanted to see, God, why did he have to ask that? He knew he wasn't going to get the answer he wanted he should have just kept his fucking gob shut.

“I hope not,” Shiro said finally and the tiny crack deepened; not big enough to keep him from breaking face, but enough to shake his foundations.

“Good,” Lance said quickly. “So... what? Like friends with benefits?”

“Friends with benefits,” Shiro echoed, considering the words. “Yeah. That could work.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

It was not, in fact, Cool.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“To know he was deceiving one of his best mates like this hurt. But they had a good rhythm in swing, and Shiro didn't actually feel enough guilt to shatter the illusion.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **please watch for those new tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Recreational Drug Use & Miscommunication **  
> let me know if there's anything else you want me to/think I should tag for! :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_Shiro_

 

 

 

The day Shiro first met Lance, he was a scrawny little thing. Eighteen and a friend of a friend begging for the spare room in his houseshare. It was one of the few affordable places in town that wasn't student accommodation, but it was filled with students nonetheless.

Shiro had been living there two years by that point, had seen people come and go. That year he'd had entirely new housemates who were all freshers – the very same ones he was living with now. But Lance wasn't a student. He was something else.

Lance's story wasn't detailed, and was something Shiro had pieced together over the years he'd known him. After failing sixth form, he had moved out of his parents' house to try his luck in the big city as a working adult. Shiro kinda had to admire that about him. Before the bar job, he worked three separate part times and had a wedge of cash saved up for the deposit on the spare room. Keith had also vouched for him, citing that he was actually a decent guy no matter what shit he chatted as a front.

Feeling something like a big brother to the baby-faced beanpole, Shiro sorta just took Lance under his wing as they got to know one another. _Well_. He'd felt like a brother at first. Then the idiot had to go and make Shiro fall head over heels for him.

And _then_ he had to go and say those words:

“ _This isn't going to change anything is it?”_

Lance had looked so earnest as he said it, and Shiro knew he wasn't fucking about. He was really gonna play him like that, and Shiro had to act like it wasn't a problem, so he _didn't_. He gave him the answer he _wanted_.

To say Shiro fucked up was an understatement.

He had known Lance for five years, been hopelessly besotted with the guy for four of those and worked hard at keeping himself under wraps. He played the good mate – high-fiving him whenever Lance brought someone home, put in his earbuds when they were led into his room. Shiro would never be able to scratch the way Lance looked at him from his mind, ocean eyes screaming 'look at me'. 'Look at me, getting laid while the dude who's in love with me is on the other side of that wall pretending he can't hear anything'.

Lance was breaking Shiro's heart and it was _fine_. Just dandy.

In all fairness, when Keith sent him that dumb video of Lance crying, sat on a wall as he leaned heavily into a hedge, cig dangling from his mouth while he prattled about wanting to “get all up in Shiro's monster cock”, he definitely could have handled the situation a little more... _tactfully_.

When you spend every day for seven years having academic discipline drilled into you, there came a time when you were bound to snap. Unfortunately, Shiro's snap was triggered when he came face-to-face with hard planes of glossy brown skin and offensively bright pants.

God.

He was totally pathetic. Who the hell got turned on by _cartoon flamingos_?

Lance's birthday came and went, flew by in a haze of alcohol and loud music, and now Shiro was just kicking back and letting their whole situation escalate.

Meaning, he acted like everything was Super Chill whenever Lance rocked up to his door with that mischievous glint in his eye and a bottle of cheap Sainsbury's wine in his hands. Shiro _knew_ what he was doing was wrong. Man, did he know it. He was absolutely taking advantage of the situation so he could kid himself into thinking there was the possibility of a life where Lance didn't just hang out with him when dicks were involved any more.

It wasn't like they hung out loads before the sex, but they definitely had lots of casual platonic fun together. Now? Now it was lots of casual naked fun together. Shiro felt weird for wanting some of the platonic fun back. It was as if, to make room for their newfound intimacy, they had to cut out almost all 'alone time' that didn't include shagging.

To know he was deceiving one of his best mates like this hurt. But they had a good rhythm in swing, and Shiro didn't _actually_ feel enough guilt to shatter the illusion.

Which was why he took special care to keep his mouth shut while he pressed Lance down bodily into the bed, he didn't wanna let something slip in the heat of the moment so they never talked while they fucked. Well, they'd not actually fucked yet but Shiro had a feeling tonight was the night if the way Lance was lifting his hips higher than usual to grind his ass right against Shiro's cock was any indication, the friction was delicious as he panted into the juncture between Lance's neck and shoulder.

The silence between them was oppressive.

Shiro found, as time went on, that they rarely spoke. Asomeone who took pride in his ability to talk dirty, to vocalise his desires, it was a weird transition from running his mouth to just using it to grunt like it bitch in heat as he rutted onto the man under him. Apparently Lance wasn't a massive fan of kissing either, and they hadn't done a whole lot of it since the first time.

Shiro had never met someone who didn't want to kiss during sex before, and it was strange but if that was what Lance wanted then it was fine by him.

He wouldn't push. Pushing led to shoving, and then he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hide behind the collected front he threw up whenever they hooked up.

Lance buried his fingers in Shiro's hair, tugging sharply and make a plaintive whining sound. Shiro nodded, catching his drift.

He trailed lube-slick fingers down to Lance's ass, rubbing his thumb over him purposefully. Shiro sucked in a shocked intake of breath when he found it was soft and pliant, realisation dawned on him because Lance _had fucked himself on his own fingers before he'd gone to him._ The thought of Lance doing that to himself was unbelievably hot.

Shiro slipped two curious fingers into him, moaning when he felt how goddamn ready he already was.

“You can just jump straight in,” Lance said, smirking. Shiro moaned by way of reply, nodding rapidly as he reached to the bedside table to pull out the condoms. Lance swatted his hands away when he reached out for them, ripping one of the packets himself and rolling it onto Shiro's dick fluidly himself before slicking it with lube.

Shiro watched him, panting and open-mouthed and _wanting_ as Lance lay back down against the pillows, splaying his legs our and dragging a sensuous hand up his chest invitingly. He didn't need to be told twice, and leaned forward, taking himself in hand as he lined himself up.

As Shiro sank into him, both of them gasping at the sensations that swelled up with the movement, he thought to himself that there was literally no place he'd rather be. Lance was gloving his cock in all that tight, wet heat and he couldn't help but groan loudly into his shoulder, hips shifting with the need to move.

He couldn't yet. Lance hadn't given him the go-ahead.

Lance was keening high on every exhale, a sound that would forever be burned into Shiro's memory, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to take his time here. The first time they'd gotten intimate, Shiro'd been kinda rough but he didn't want that to have a place here, not when they were so _close_.

_I love you, I love you, I love you,_ he chanted inside his head reverently. 

Groaning again, Shiro tightened his grip on Lance's waist and looked down at him. He met his gaze with half-lidded, liquid blue eyes that were blown out with lust. It was like a punch to the gut, and Lance grabbed impatiently as his ass with a short nod.

He rolled his hips forward experimentally, arms threatening to give way where they were holding him up. Lance felt so fucking good,  _so good_ . He'd felt this body before, had it in his hands before but never like  _this_ . 

For an act that could very easily swing into the realms of impersonal, Shiro found the way Lance moved under him, moved  _with_ him to be strikingly intimate. He couldn't help but think that the fact they weren't talking was making it more so, because now all they were left with was the soft slaps of his skin against Lance's skin, their intermingling breaths and a wholly ineffable ecstasy shared between them. 

Shiro twisted his hips fluidly, keeping his thrusts measured and gentle. He knew he had a good angle. Every time their bodies moved in tandem, Lance's thighs trembled violently, rolling his ass down with quiet moans.

Sliding his hands up the sweat-slick skin of his stomach, Shiro brushed his fingers over Lance's nipples reverently. He cried out, eyes closed and mouth open as his fingers scrambled for purchase against Shiro's back. The sight made Shiro smile, and he threw himself into the task at hand with newfound fervour.

Then, something shifted in Lance's expression. He opened his eyes, narrowing them and suddenly it moved from blissed-out to weirdly guarded. He reached up and grabbed Shiro's forelock, yanking his head down to his with an aborted grunt.

“Harder,” Lance ordered.

“L – Lance?” Shiro breathed, unsure. His hips slowed to a halt as he caught Lance's eye. He thought he'd been enjoying the hold slow thing. Shiro was being gentle and good and treating him exactly how he'd always wanted to – like he was a treasure. He was _Shiro's_ treasure, and he didn't want to hurt him.

“Fuck me,” Lance ground out, curling his legs around Shiro's waist and pulling to force him deeper, “ _Harder_.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure, Shiro,” Lance rolled his eyes, “Now c'mon, big guy. Show me what you got.”

Shiro considered him, and the determination on his face. It was probably better this way. Being that strung out on pleasure was not ideal for his impulse control, so a little bit of pain in the mix would probably sharpen his mind and keep him in the moment; stop him from drifting off to another fucking plane of existence and saying something he'd regret.

Taking a firmer hold on Lance's lithe body, Shiro braced his knees into the bed and fucked into Lance. Hard.

Lance cried out, arching his back into Shiro's unrelenting movements. His face was scrunched up, brows pulled taught as he bounced himself back against Shiro's hips desperately. Lance was vice-like around his cock, and Shiro was grunting pathetically every time he railed back into him.

It still wasn't enough though, and they vibrated together – close but not close enough and the cresting frustration between the two of them came to life in nails scored over skin and teeth sinking into whatever flesh they could find.

“Fuck, _Shiro_ ,” Lance gasped, planting his feet down onto the bed to try and get some leverage to hitch his ass down harder onto Shiro's cock, riding his movements _perfectly_. “G – grind more, please, please, _please_ ,” he said, eyes squeezed shut and face flushed so pretty.

Nodding, Shiro didn't stop shoving into him, but lifted his hips into a rough grind on every thrust inside and the _sound_ Lance made was insane. It was like his breath had been yanked out of his throat, and his chest stuttered with the force of it until he finally exhaled on this ridiculously loud moan that was going to haunt Shiro's deepest, darkest wet dreams for the rest of his life. And he did it every time Shiro hit him in his prostate, writhing like the couldn't fucking breathe and trembling and –

Shiro slammed into Lance with a shout, hips twitching as he came harder than he had ever in his entire goddamn life. Lance flexed his muscles around him, like he was trying to drag it out for everything it was worth as he palmed his own cock, panting, until he tightened impossibly further around Shiro's oversensitive cock.

Lance was silent as he came, blue eyes flying open and staring at the ceiling sightlessly as his jizz landed unceremoniously on his tummy.

Muscles aching, Shiro shifted back and pulled out with a hiss. Lance winced a little, but stayed flopped back where he was against the pillows, chest heaving.

Throwing away his condom and hastily wiping them both down with a stray towel, Shiro moved to lie down next to him. He shifted his hand so it was alongside Lance's, a hair's breadth away from touching; far away enough that Shiro felt safe and close enough that he could feel the warmth of Lance's skin. When he peeked up at him, Lance had his eyes closed and his breathing had evened out. There were a couple of red welts on his shoulder from where Shiro had gotten a little carried away.

He rarely let himself have moments to admire Lance, for fear of getting caught. It's not like he didn't _tell_ Lance he found him attractive because he knew it was nice to hear, but he just didn't go into as much detail as he'd like. He didn't tell Lance he loved the way his skin would darken and his freckles would spread in the summer sun, and that he wanted to trace each and every one of them with his fingers, naming the constellations on his skin with kisses and devotion. He didn't tell Lance he loved the way he only had one cheek that would dimple when he smiled, and _only_ when he was really smiling because it meant one corner of his mouth pulled higher than the other in an endearingly crooked grin. He didn't tell Lance he loved the stubble he'd been growing out, grooming meticulously when he thought no one was looking because he clearly wanted the scruff to look effortless.

He didn't tell Lance he loved him. _Period_.

“Staring is rude, y'know,” Lance said suddenly, cracking open an eye to look at Shiro.

Shiro laughed easily, rolling onto his belly so he could bury his face in the pillow. “Wasn't staring.”

“What were you doing then?”

“Just thinking I liked your stubble,” Shiro said, forgoing every other _super gay_ thought that had been running through his mind.

“So you were _staring_ ,” Lance insisted with a laugh, and Shiro felt him sit up in the bed. There was a click, and the smell of tobacco swirled through the air. “Caught you,” he sang.

“Yes, your loveliness, I was staring at your _incomparable_ beauty. It's is unparalleled in all the land and your five o' clock shadow is _legendary_ in my dreams,” Shiro said dramatically, although his face was pressed into the bed. Lance laughed anyway and it was like music to his ears.

“Gotta go meet Matt in a bit,” Shiro mumbled into the pillow. Lance snickered, poking his side.

“You don't look like you're going much of anywhere right now,” he laughed, and Shiro peeked up at him where he was resting with his back to the wall. His hair was dishevelled in the extreme. Shiro's t-shirt had found its way onto him, hanging off his bony shoulders a little too much for it to be sexy. That shirt was baggy on _Shiro_ , so it basically drowned Lance. He was holding the mug that had become his designated ash tray, puffing away. Shiro had never really thought smoking was an attractive quality before he had Lance surrounded by a smoky haze, blankets pooled around his hips – _yeah_. Shiro changed his mind. He actually did look pretty fucking sexy right then, lung cancer and bad breath be damned.

“Your ass ruined my life,” Shiro said by way of explanation and Lance laughed again, full and beautiful.

“You'd be surprised how many people have told me that,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows. Shiro bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He didn't wanna know any stories involving Lance's ass and other people, being that he was definitely more concerned with Lance's ass and _him_.

Instead of saying as much, Shiro just forced out a laugh and shook his head. He pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“Will you, uh... will you be okay?” Shiro asked awkwardly as he slipped out of bed, scouring the floor for his clothes. Lance looked up at him curiously with a strange smile, before nodding hesitantly.

“Yeah, this isn't my first rodeo, man,” Lance said.

_But it was your first with_ me _._

Shiro glanced slyly at the red marks on Lance's thighs from where he'd been gripping them, feeling pleased that they looked like they were going to bruise. He'd never wanted to mark someone up before, never been one to stake his claim in the form of half-moon nail prints and mottled love bites. But now he _had_ Lance, and he wanted anyone who looked at him to back off because they saw Shiro on Lance's body even when they weren't together.

Possessiveness was a weird feeling, and Shiro wasn't sure if he liked it or not. Lance wasn't a thing to be owned, but Shiro wanted him nonetheless.

“Uh, right,” Shiro said in reply after a beat too long. He pulled on his jeans and jerked his thumb towards the door awkwardly, “Make the bed before you go, yeah?”

“Who says I'm leaving this bed today?” Lance retorted around a smirk, and Shiro's tummy did flip-flops it really had _no_ place doing.

_Yeah please never ever ever ever leave my bed,_ Shiro wanted to say. “I think the fact it's your turn to clean the bathroom means you will,” he said instead before leaving with a short wave.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he shook his head. It felt wrong to leave Lance like that after doing what they did but he had to keep it casual, right?

Plus, his and Matt's project wasn't going to write itself.

 

**

“Matt, I fucked up,” Shiro said, clutching the coffee between his hands like it was his lifeline.

“It's okay,” Matt said, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “I still have that shovel. You know I'm ride or die, man.”

“ _What_? No, no I've not killed anyone, _Jesus_ ,” Shiro cried out, laughing. “Do you really think _you'd_ be the person I'd come to about murder?”

“No,” Matt muttered, “I know you'd go to Keith. I'm not happy about it, but I respect it.”

“Actually, I'd probably ask Allura.”

“Keep my future girlfriend out of this!” Matt hissed, “She's not going down with the likes of you!”

“I thought it was your dream to be a prison husband?” Shiro asked, teasing.

“First off, that was back when I was in my wrestling women phase. Second of all, you're changing the subject – how did you fuck up?”

A pregnant silence hung between them, and Shiro twisted his hands in his lap anxiously. He could feel Matt's eyes on him and could feel his words lodged in his throat, mostly because he could hardly believe they were the truth. The minutes stretched on, and Shiro was glad for Matt's ability to stay quiet when it was necessary because building up the courage to admit this was actually a lot harder than he thought it would be.

“IsleptwithLance.”

“I literally heard nothing you just said,” Matt barked, “Stop mumbling.”

“I – I slept with... Lance,” Shiro repeated, not much clearer than before.

Matt squinted at him. “Shiro. You're the biggest, buffest guy I know. Stop talking like a primary school kid at show and tell.”

“ _I SLEPT WITH LANCE_!” Shiro bellowed, chest heaving. Wow, it sure felt good to yell it.

“What!?” Matt yelled, just as loud, “Oh, my God! Yes! You two? _Finally_? _Got together_?”

He was grinning at Shiro with this big, sunshiney Matt-smile that was usually reserved for Pidge and special occasions. Shiro winced, because he wasn't _wrong_. But he was wrong.

“Uh – not quite. We just slept together.”

“Oh, no,” Matt stared at him in horror. “ _No_. Shiro, please don't tell me you're doing friends with – ”

“We're doing friends with benefits,” Shiro finished, then looked up with a smile. Except it probably looked like he was about to cry instead of an _actual_ smile. “But it's fine? Like, I'm pretty happy. I finally got Lance, and it's not exactly the way I wanted it but it's still something. If this is all he gives me, then I'm happy to take it, right? I'm not pushing my luck, I've liked him too long to do that,” someone please shut his mouth, “so it's fine. It's cool. This is _fine_.”

“You're definitely on heelys,” Matt said, exasperation thick in his voice.

“Eh? What're you on about?”

“Heelys to run away from your feelys,” he elaborated and Shiro shoved him with a groan.

“I'm not running away from my feelys!” Shiro protested. “ _Feelings_. Not feelys. Please never give me a reason to say that again.”

“I won't if you decide to be honest with yourself for once. I know you stole his t-shirt the other week,” Matt said, pitying.

“Wh – what? I did _not_!”

“Keith said you did.”

“Keith is a little liar!”

“Very mature, Shirogane,” Matt rolled his eyes.

“I'm just saying. I fucked up, but it's fine because Lance is okay with it,” Shiro said.

“In what _world_ would Lance be okay with this?” Matt cried out, “He's totally head over heels for you!”

“No. No he's not. He's made that very clear,” Shiro said, ducking his head. Boy oh, boy had he made that clear. “I don't wanna push it. I'll take what I can get. You know how I feel about him, Matt. I just want to make him happy and this makes him happy. I can tell something had been up with him the past few weeks, so if fucking around with me helps that, then it helps, yanno?”

“The _reason_ something had been up is because he's fucking around with you _instead_ of professing his undying love,” Matt insisted and Shiro shook his head, feeling frustrated.

“I can't even begin to explain how wrong you are,” Shiro said. “He really doesn't like me like that. Never has, never will.”

“Oh, my God, you're actually so _dense_!” Matt yelled, jumping to his feet. Shiro looked up at him, surprised by his sudden outburst, “Even an idiot could see how much Lance likes you!”

“Matt.” Shiro deflated, sighing. “I appreciate your vote of confidence but unless he explicitly tells me that? I just can't understand how it could be true.”

“Dude,” Matt said, despairingly, “Dude... _Kashi_. You gotta talk to him. This isn't making you happy.”

“I am happy!” Shiro said, but he didn't sound very convincing and Matt didn't look like he believed him one bit. “I am. Can we – can we please just drop this? Let's go over the work from yesterday, yeah?”

“Okay,” Matt said slowly, and sat back down.

A small, treacherous part of Shiro said that Matt was right. It whispered of a future where Lance and Shiro were actually, truly happy and in love and living lives that were what they wanted. His heart hurt to think about it, because if he even entertained the idea that Lance felt the same way it'd lead him down a dark road he wasn't sure he had the willpower to stop fantasising about.

**

The house was quiet when Shiro padded his was into the kitchen, hunger gnawing at his gut incessantly. He really hoped Hunk had some leftovers in the fridge he could pinch then blame on someone else.

His conversation with Matt yesterday had left him feeling unsettled now he didn't have coursework and lectures to distract him from his friend's words.

Shiro half-wished Matt hadn't said anything, because now the idea that Lance was interested in him beyond sex was niggling at the back of his mind in a _super_ annoying way. He was a patient man with everything save for himself and his own emotions.

Even though he didn't believe a word of what Matt said, his mind was now racing with scenarios wherein if they continued to sleep together then maybe Lance would end up developing feelings for him. For someone who waxed lyrical about communication being the key to healthy relationships – both romantic and platonic – he was doing an awful lot of avoiding talking about his emotions.

There was a thud from the room above him when Shiro stabbed his fork into the tub of pasta salad, and raucous laughter followed it. He looked up to the doorway with a mouthful of cucumber expectantly when he heard footsteps thundering down the stairs, and offered a little wave when Lance bounced into the room with flushed cheeks.

Shiro's stomach dropped. Did he have someone over? It's not like they'd talked about being exclusive but Shiro _really_ didn't like the idea of Lance screwing around with anyone else while they were together – in any sense of that word. They both stared at each other for a moment, and Shiro wondered if Lance could tell what he was thinking by the expression on his face.

“Pidge wanted some crisps,” Lance said quickly, and Shiro relaxed. He peered into the plastic container Shiro had in front of him with a smirk. “Are you eating Hunk's salad?”

“If you tell on me I'll kick you out,” Shiro countered defensively.

Lance held his hands up in surrender, “Wasn't gonna tell. I ate his stew earlier, is all. He's going to be arsey that two things have gone missing in the same day.”

They shared a sly look and Shiro shrugged, nonplussed. “Blame it on Keith?”

“Blame in on Keith,” Lance agreed, then rummaged around in the cupboard until he found a suitable multipack. Shiro would _never_ be happy with the amount of junk food they kept in the house – it meant his diets went South faster than he'd like every time. Honestly, it was a miracle he managed to even stay in shape with how many midnight forays he made into the kitchen for chocolate. Kinder Buenos were his weakness and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.

Lance cleared his throat, leaning against the doorway with the crisps tucked under his arm. Shiro looked up at him.

“We were, uh, gonna go hotbox in my room if you're game? It's just Hunk and Pidge,” Lance said, looking weirdly awkward. Shiro cursed himself for liking how awkward looked on Lance's face – he'd be lying if he said one of his favourite things about fucking Lance wasn't the way his cocky attitude could be wiped away in the face of pleasure. It wasn't that he liked making Lance uncomfortable, just that he enjoyed seeing him unsure of what to do with himself when Shiro made him come so hard he cried. _God dammit Shiro he's asking you to get high with him! Stop thinking about sex!_

“Shiro?” Lance pressed, frowning.

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro nodded. It would be good to hang out with Lance outside of the sheets. “I'll come up in a bit.”

“Cool cool,” Lance nodded with a little smile, saluting him cheerily before loping out of the room.

Shiro changed into his sweatpants after he finished eating, throwing on a threadbare vest to combat the sticky heat of the day and also secretly knowing Lance liked how he looked in lounge wear. Apparently Lance liked a lot of things about the how Shiro looked, if the way he always ran his mouth was anything to go by, and Shiro felt like a dumb secondary school kid when he thought about how he'd like Lance to vocalise things he liked about Shiro's _inside_ as well. Emotional inside, mind you. Not, like, _physical_ inside – although Shiro wouldn't be at all opposed to exploration of that –

_You're a disgusting human being, Takashi Shirogane,_ he told himself sternly as he knocked lightly on Lance's bedroom door. 

He pushed it open when he heard a muffled, “Come in!” from the other side, hiting a pungent wall of nag champa and weed. Pidge was sprawled out on Lance's bed, her head in Hunk's lap as he looped hoola-hoops over her fingers. Shiro's gaze flickered over to where Lance was sat on his beanbag, flushing when his friend patted the tiny space next to him enticingly.

“I will not fit on there with you, mate,” Shiro laughed, but went over to him because of _course he did_. Lance could tell him to jump off a cliff and he'd do it.

“Your butt is so tiny I could fit it in, like, one hand. You're good,” Pidge said, giggling.

“Thanks, Pidge,” Shiro said dryly, “It's not like I do squats every day to try and make it bigger.”

“Your butt is just fine, Shiro, now squeeze it on here next to me,” Lance grinned, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him back so he fell half on Lance, half on the beanbag. He couldn't help the indignant squawk that wormed its way out of him, swatting at Lance's shoulder lightly before shuffling so he was comfortable.

“We were just talking about who would be who in what TV show,” Hunk said, cracking open his bottle of juice, clearly being very careful not to spill any on Pidge. This was a conversation Shiro had heard the three of them have more times than he could count, and every time it _always_ ended in a bickering match from someone taking offense to their delegated character.

“Oh, yeah?” Shiro raised a brow. “What show were you onto this time?”

“That 70s Show,” Pidge said, taking a dainty bite from one of her potato-encased fingers. “We decided Hunk is definitely Kitty. Being the mum friend and all.”

“I resent that,” Hunk protested, “Why can't I be the dad friend?”

“Antiquated gender archetypes say the individual who cooks and cleans and looks after everyone emotionally is the mum friend,” Lance offered, “So you're the mum friend. 'Sides, Shiro's the dad here.”

“Yeah, but Shiro is nothing like the dad in the show – what's his name, again?” Pidge said.

“Red,” Hunk replied, and Pidge offered him a hoola-hoop for his trouble which he declined given it was covered in her spit.

Shiro laughed, though. “I'm sorry, Hunk. I have to agree. You're the mum of our house. But – who have you given everyone else so far?”

“Keith is Hyde,” Lance grinned up at him, and Shiro's heart squeezed because it was strange to be sat so close to him while he was smiling like that. _Fondly_. “Pidge said if we gave her a character she'd slit our throats while we slept so don't touch that one.”

“I stick to that sentiment,” Pidge said. “Also Lance you're definitely Kelso.”

“ _Hey_!”

Shiro had to kinda zone out when they started fighting, because he'd seen it happen a million times before but was quickly drawn back into the fray when he saw Lance lift up the bong that had been on the floor next to him.

“Did – did you put Fruit and Barley in the bottom of your bong?” Shiro asked, incredulous. He eyed up the bowl uncertainly as it bubbled when Lance took a long, slow hit. It looked like some weird magic potion.

When Lance exhaled, he blew in in Shiro's face and he could faintly scent the juice. It smelt kinda good, actually.

“Yeah, I did,” he smiled, dopey. “Gotta spice it up. It's a Thursday.”

“Are Thursdays significant for any reason?” Pidge asked, squinting at him.

“Nope,” Lance said, popping his 'P' and passing the bowl to Hunk, who politely turned it down in favour of the sandwich next to him. Hunk was the only man Shiro knew who ordered Filmore and Union for munchies; a gourmand to the core, he once told Shiro in full seriousness he would rather be jettisoned into space than eat KFC.

Shiro took the thing out of his hands, pinching Lance's lighter from his pocket and pulling in the smoke. He blinked a little in surprise at the weird mixture of tastes in his mouth. A pleasant buzz hummed through him, and he settled back against the beanbag more, leaning harder in Lance's side because he was warm and his skin felt nice against Shiro's.

He hadn't smoked with his housemates in a while, and forgot how much he enjoyed it. It was nice to kick back and forget about his assignments for a while, letting the sound of his friends' dippy giggles and dumb jokes wash over him. Lance slipped one of his records on, too, and the fuzzy music sounded beautiful against the smooth baritone of Lance's voice as he sang to it.

Shiro loved it when Lance sang, and he listened to him intently while Pidge and Hunk distracted themselves on her DS.

“Did you ever take singing lessons?” Shiro asked curiously as Lance's voice cracked gorgeously through a key-change.

“I was a theatre student, I thought you knew that?” Lance said, blinking at him with red eyes.

“You just told me you failed A-Levels, not what you actually did,” Shiro said, nudging him with his elbow. “You did acting, too? I can see that.”

“And dance,” Lance murmured, then he frowned. Shiro wondered what was going through his head. He had always joked about being a dropout, but Shiro had always suspected his sadness about losing out on college ran deeper than he pretended. Quick as it came, the frown disappeared and was replaced with a smarmy smile, “Of course you can see me doing that. I'm a total drama queen.”

“Well, you're not wrong,” Shiro chuckled, passing Lance a packet of crisps when he made grabby hands for them. “Why did you not – ”

“Oh, my God!” Lance interrupted him, and they all jumped in surprise at his loudness.

“What?” Pidge bit out, clutching her chest, slapping a hand on Hunk's thigh.

“Cum is just when your dick cries,” Lance said through a mouthful of Hoola-Hoops, and a little part of Shiro's soul died as he stared down at him. Hunk seemed to agree with his sentiment if the weak 'no' he whispered was anything to go by.

“Okay, I think it's bedtime for Lance,” Shiro said heavily.

“What, why?” Lance pouted.

“Agreed. I came for the chill out time, not gay revelations,” Pidge grimaced, sitting up.

Lance grumbled something about being close to finding the answers of the universe, but relented when Shiro hauled him to his feet. Hunk and Pidge trudged out of the room, yawning widely around their goodbyes.

Shiro stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as Lance stripped down to his boxers, lighting a candle before slipping under his quilt.

“Um – ” he began but Lance silenced him with a look, and crooked his finger.

“Wanna spoon?” he asked, and there was no way Shiro could say no to that. Especially not when Lance's body was curled towards him, inviting him to be the little spoon. And goddammit if Shiro didn't _love_ being the little spoon.

He pulled his vest over his head, shuffling so his back was pressed to the lithe muscles of Lance's chest comfortingly. Lance slung a wiry arm over his waist, curving it around his stomach and tucking it under his body to complete the embrace. Shiro had expected to feel uncomfortably turned on with his body to close to Lance's like this, but instead a deep-seated warmth settled in his gut, spreading through his veins and making him sink fully into Lance with a soft sigh.

As he fell asleep, encased safely in Lance's arms, he wondered if the press of thin lips to the nape of his neck was a dream come too early.

**

Shiro woke up without a body tucked around his. He could still feel the weight of Lance's body in the bed next to him though, facing the wall and curled into a ball.

The soft morning light filtered in through the gap in Lance's curtains, and the room was dimly lit but Shiro could still see what a mess they'd left his room in last night. Snack packets littered the floor, and tobacco was crumbled carelessly over Lance's pristine white rug.

A quiet, sniffling sound drew his gaze from the mess and over to Lance's hunched shoulders, which he realised, belatedly, were quaking a little.

“Lance?” he whispered, reaching out to touch his back tentatively. Lance froze, and the wet sounds halted as though he'd stopped breathing altogether. “Are you okay?”

Shiro had never been a fan of those words. They seemed so useless in the face of someone's tears, yet were the only thing that could instigate a conversation in which they could tackle the source of them. Clearly Lance was not okay, and Shiro's chest tightened because he _wanted_ him to be. He wanted Lance to be full of light and love and happiness with that goofy smile he was used to.

“I – it's nothing,” Lance choked out, voice strained.

Shiro tutted, pulling on Lance's shoulder until he turned around. He winced when he saw his face, red and splotchy from sadness, cheeks sticky and wet with tears flowing over tears already dried. How long had he been here, crying like this, not reaching out for Shiro?

Something twisted in his gut. He really didn't see Shiro as anything other than sex. Shiro wondered if he even saw him as a friend at this point, because a friend would have sought comfort, right? He shook himself, mentally slapping his wrist. This wasn't about _him_ , or his insecurities. This was about his best friend who was visibly upset.

“This doesn't look like nothing,” Shiro said softly, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. He frowned, looking into Lance's face searchingly. “Will you tell me what's wrong?”

“I...” Lance began, but apparently speaking was a Bad Idea at that moment because using his voice just brought on a new onslaught of sobs and it was _awful_. Shiro had never seen someone cry so hard before and it broke his heart. He was confused, but kept his fingers trailing over Lance's cheek even as they shook.

Ugly, broken sounds wrecked Lance's body and he shook his head, probably at himself as he sniffed loudly.

“I swear to God, I'm important,” Lance whispered, out of nowhere, “I just can't prove it yet. I can't prove _anything_. I've done nothing with my life, Shiro, and I don't know – I don't know what I'm _doing here._ You guys all have your futures paved in fuckin' gold, man... and... and I bailed on the one thing I was good at because I was scared. I'm always so fucking scared of everything,” his voice cracked at the end of his sentence and Shiro stared at him, shocked. How had Lance hidden away all of this pain so well? It terrified him that he could keep it a secret like this. Before he could express that, Lance continued in that same, wavering voice, “I'm scared I'll never figure out what my purpose is. I had a _plan_. I had a plan and I blew it, just like I blow everything else.”

“No, Lance. No, _look_ at me,” Shiro said urgently, tilting his chin up so their gazes met, “You're not a failure. Nobody thinks you're a failure, okay? We all love and appreciate you. You're only twenty-three, there's so much time for you to find your path in life. Academic productivity does not define our worth, and just because you didn't pass college _doesn't_ mean you're not an integral piece in _so_ many people's lives.”

“When did you get so wise?” Lance asked wetly, scrubbing furiously at his eyes.

“I read a lot of self-help books when Keith was depressed. Some of the stuff stuck with me, I guess,” Shiro smiled, rubbing a soothing hand over Lance's shoulder until his breathing evened out a little better.

“You're... you're a good friend, Shiro,” Lance said, and a fresh wave of tears inexplicably filled his eyes again.

“Oh, Lance,” Shiro murmured, his brow furrowing again, “How long have you been bottling this up?”

“I don't wanna talk... just hold me?” Lance asked brokenly, and Shiro crooned, dragging Lance's head to his chest and he cradling him. His body was shuddering under the weight of his grief, and Shiro shushed him helplessly, dragging his fingers through the curls atop Lance's head for lack of anything else to do. It was so rare for Lance to be honest about vulnerabilities that Shiro often forgot he had any.

He held Lance for an eternity and a second all at once, before he pulled away with a shaky smile.

“Wow, that's so not cute,” Lance rolled his eyes, wiping at his face roughly.

“ _Lance_ ,” Shiro chided, not enjoying the bravado one bit.

“Sorry,” Lance mumbled, “And sorry about snotting on your tits.”

“For the – Lance, they're not _tits_ ,” Shiro couldn't help laughing. “But, seriously, you know you can talk to me, right? About all of this?”

“Don't need to,” Lance said quickly, “I'm usually fine. Sometimes it gets to me.”

“You don't have to lie to me,” Shiro said, shaking his head.

“I'm not lying,” Lance bit out.

“I care about you, and – ” Shiro cut himself off quickly because those words could escalate into something horrendously embarrassing.

“...And?” Lance prompted, quirking a brow. There was a strange look in an eye and Shiro prayed Lance's wasn't reading too much into it, because he didn't think he could deal with the rejection right now. Time to do what Shiro did best with Lance: backtrack.

“A – and we're _friends,”_ he said quickly, and then that expression was gone. Good. He bought it. “You should rely on me more.”

Shiro didn't know what drove him to lean forward and press a kiss to Lance's lips, but he hoped it wasn't a stupid idea given the slip up he'd almost had. Lance needed comfort right now, and it didn't look like his words were doing anything by way of that, so maybe this would give Lance an idea of his importance.

Lance's mouth softened against his, kissing him back gently and closed-mouthed before pulling away.

“Thank, buddy,” Lance mumbled.

And that was it. Shiro could tell the conversation was over.

“You should get up, though, it's almost ten,” Lance continued, sitting up.

Shit. His lecture was at eleven.

Shiro scrambled out of bed, casting one last dubious glance to Lance before leaving the room.

As he made his way down the street to his bus stop, Shiro couldn't help but think about how him leaving Lance along in either of their bedrooms was becoming a trend he didn't want to get stuck in.

**

Lance's outburst from last week hung over Shiro like a dark cloud almost constantly, as did how close he came to saying those three terrifying words.

He remembered, once, a friend in high school had told him you couldn't be in love with someone you weren't 'a couple' with. That concept had stuck with him all the way through his teens, and now he was an adult they still rang clear in his head. He couldn't even remember the kid's name but he could remember those words vividly.

Shiro was not in a relationship with Lance in the traditional sense, but he loved him all the same.

It was a frightening thing, to care so deeply and fully for somebody. Now Lance had begun to open up for him in ways he never had before, the emotions scored themselves deeper into his chest and Lance's sadness was etched in there alongside it. He didn't want Lance to be sad. He wanted Lance to be the happy.

Giving him that happiness was something Shiro wasn't convinced he could do. Guilt swirled through him, thick and unpleasant when he thought about how he was using Lance. He was fulfilling all his little fantasies in the game they were playing, but Lance didn't deserve that. Especially not now Shiro knew how much of a front that patented bravado was. He didn't deserve Shiro's lies.

The thought of telling Lance, though... it was _sickening_. The mere idea of coming clean and admitting his feelings out loud made his blood curdle in his veins. He was going to have to make some hard decisions in the coming days, he knew. If he was too weak-willed to verbalise his issues with their current arrangement then Lance would be sucked into his fantasy even further.

Shiro did not want to give up what they had, but he also didn't know how much longer he could hold out before he was fit to burst.

He needed space to think.

Surely Lance would be fine in the meantime – it wasn't exactly like he was gonna flat-out avoid him, or try to cut him out. He just needed a clear head to consider his options. And Lance was strong, and good, and everything Shiro was convinced he didn't deserve in his life yet clung to anyway.

Like the tide, flowing around and over all obstacles in his path, Shiro was scared Lance would realise he was just another stubborn rock on the shoreline for him.

 

**

When Shiro woke up with a crumbled flashcard stuck to his head, he wasn't surprised it was from Keith and was _very_ confused about when it had happened, and how he'd not woken up when it had. The tape had been pressed into his skin so hard he felt like he was bleeding when he pulled it off.

Written in Keith's chicken scrawl was a note reading: _meet me outside costa at 2 xoxo keith_

Shiro frowned because he really didn't understand why Keith kept doing this to him; he had a _phone_. He had _fingers_. He could just _text_ Shiro to hang out.

Keith was lounging on one of the outside deck chairs when Shiro rocked up, ten minutes early. His friend was wearing a shockingly red bomber with a pair of _frighteningly_ tight black jeans that left far too little to the imagination for Shiro to be entirely comfortable.

“Did you get my note?” Keith asked, kicking out the chair opposite him

“ _Yes_ I got your note, Keith, you celotaped it to my forehead,” Shiro bit out, irritated. He rubbed at the sore patch above his brow.“Why do you keep doing that?”

Keith just shrugged. He looked serious, and for somebody whose resting expression was seriousness incarnate it was quite something to look even more so. It probably had something to do with Lance.

It definitely had something to do with Lance.

Look, Shiro didn't _mean_ to avoid him for the past few days. It was shitty of him, he knew it was, but at first he genuinely had stuff to do. Except on the third day. Then yeah, Shiro just flat out avoided him because he'd left it too long, freaked out and got shit-scared of his own dumb feelings.

Keith shoved an iced coffee into Shiro's hands and stared him out.

_Damn him, and his terrifying death stare to hell,_ Shiro thought as he met his gaze. 

He really tried not to break face, but there was something about the way Keith could make you feel like he was stabbing you in the eye just by looking at you that had life-ruining properties and Shiro was not strong enough to withstand it. 

“I didn't mean to avoid him!” he blurted out. 

“He cried last night. I've never seen Lance cry in my entire life,” Keith hissed. “He thinks you _hate_ him.”

“I could _never_ ,” Shiro said, shocked. 

“Well you're sure not acting like it! Jesus, Shiro, I didn't play matchmaker for you to fuck up my best friend.”

“I...” Shiro started, but couldn't find the words to justify himself. He was being a bad person. There wasn't really any way to talk himself out of that fact.

“Look, I'm telling you this even though Lance would kill me if I did, but he _does_ have feelings for you,” Keith admitted, and Shiro felt like he was gonna pass out.

“No. He doesn't,” Shiro said stubbornly.

“Oh, my God, Matt was right you're such a dipstick,” Keith snapped, “That's _both_ of us now who have told you, explicitly, he fancies the pants off you and you're just denying it!”

“I need to hear it from his mouth to believe it,” Shiro groaned, “It just seems totally impossible.”

“Well, I might be wrong, but you actually need to be in the same room as someone to talk to them about this,” Keith muttered.

“You're not wrong.”

“I'm never wrong,” Keith sniffed. “So go put yourself in his vicinity and stop pussyfooting around the inevitable.”

“But what if he _doesn't_ ,” Shiro whined, plaintive.

“Uh. 'Scuse me? Did you not just hear me? I said I'm never wrong. Just... just talk to him, Kashi. That's all I'm asking.”

“Alright. _Alright_ , I'll talk to him,” Shiro said, relenting.

“Today?”

“Today.”

“Sound,” Keith nodded, looking self-satisfied. He slurped loudly on his straw and visibly relaxed. “So how's the project with Matt going?”

“Alright. We're just working out a few kinks with the theoretic analytics then we'll be on our way to presenting it,” Shiro said, relieved that Keith wasn't actually mad at him. He grimaced, though, because he didn't really want to talk about one stressful thing right after the other. Changing the subject he raised his brows at his friend, “So what've you been up to lately?”

“Well I changed my phone name to 'The Titanic' so whenever I plug it into my computer is goes 'The Titanic is syncing,” Keith grinned and Shiro squinted at him.

“I worry about you sometimes,” he muttered.

“I worry about _you_ more,” Keith retorted. “No sane human should spend as much time at the gym as you do.”

“My body is a _temple_ , Keith!”

“Last week I saw you eat – ”

“M'kay! I'm leaving! I don't have to sit here and take this!” Shiro said dramatically.

“Whatever,” Keith snorted, then his expression evened out, “You need to talk to Lance, though, okay? He's hanging at Allura's place right now, I think they're having a Hillary Duff marathon so enter at your own risk.”

“Are you sure Allura won't castrate me if I try to go near him?” Shiro asked apprehensively.

Worryingly, Keith genuinely seemed to consider his question before shaking his head slowly. “No. She might shade you into next week but I don't think your dick will be removed from your personage.”

Sighing, Shiro left him on that note because he'd rather not entertain any visions of that happening.

Allura Patel lived in the nice end of town, mostly because she was the only one out of their circle of friends who had a decent income and partly because her uncle was perpetually sympathetic to her cause and hooked her up with a good rental deal.

So Shiro felt twice as intimidated when he rocked up to her front door wearing a pair of jeans with some questionable holes in them and his hair a tufty mess. Allura's sappy looking next door neighbour eyed him up suspiciously as he waited for her to answer.

When she finally came to the door she looked effervescent as usual, clad in a baby blue summer dress with all her gorgeous curls piled on top of her head effortlessly. Her eyes narrowed when she saw him there, her full lips twisted into a disappointed frown.

“Hi,” Shiro mumbled awkwardly, “Is Lance here?”

“What's it to you?” she bit out, placing a perfectly manicured hand on her hip. God, the fact she always looked so put-together made her, like, a million times for intimidating. He felt like a little beetle with the way she was eyeballing him.

“I wanted to speak to him,” he replied. “To apologise.”

“Mmm _hmm_.”

“Allura, please. Can you get him? I really need to talk to him,” Shiro pressed, hoping his puppy dog eyes might win her over. “ _Please_.”

“Fine. But only because he's eating all my ice cream and I know for a fact he won't replace it,” she rolled her eyes dramatically and pointed at his feet, “Wait here.” Then she promptly slammed the door in his face.

Shiro shifted uncomfortably, giving the neighbour an _definitely_ not reciprocated half-smile as she weeded her rose bushes.

It felt like an eternity before a sullen-looking Lance poked his head around the door. He was wearing a pair of baggy dungarees over a stripy top, beanie shoved over his hair carelessly. He looked so fucking _cute_ and it hurt Shiro's heart that even after everything, he still couldn't control the way Lance could make it heart beat a mile a minute. Why did Lance get to look that good when he had to turn up looking like a total sket?

“...Hi,” Shiro said, worrying at his bottom lip.

Lance scowled at him. “What do you want?”

“Could we, uh, go for a walk?” he asked weakly.

“I don't know. Don't you have other stuff to do?” Lance retorted.

“Please? I think we need to talk,” Shiro said, determined.

What little colour was in Lance's cheeks drained completely, and he started at Shiro in horror.

“O...kay,” he said hesitantly, then glanced back into the hallway. “I'll be out in a min.”

Shiro found himself with the door in his face again, and when Lance reappeared, he had his rucksack slung over one shoulder. He didn't meet Shiro's eyes properly as he walked ahead of him down the pavement. They walked in silence until they reached the river path, and then Lance turned to him with a pinched expression.

“Lance – ” Shiro began.

“You've been avoiding me,” Lance said sharply, crossing his arms. When Shiro didn't say anything, he continued in that same flat voice, so distant from usual exuberance, “Look if this arrangement wasn't working for you, you should have just said. Cutting me off is a total dick move.”

Shiro baulked. “I don't... I don't want to lose you, Lance,” he said carefully.

“Then you should have just _said_!” Lance repeated, exasperated. His jaw flexed, sucking on his teeth while he visibly collected himself. “You're important to me and if sex ruins whatever life-long relationship I hope we'd have, then we to – to cut it out of the equation.”

_I don't want to lose you in that way, either,_ Shiro didn't say. He just nodded, rubbing a tired hand over his face. This wasn't going the way he wanted it to, and the more Lance talked the more he was losing his nerve. 

“You're right,” _You're wrong, “_ Fuck, I'm so sorry, Lance. I didn't know how to deal with it so I just legged it instead of talking to you.”

“Deal with what?” Lance asked sharply, looking up at him with eyes that burned with curiosity. 

Shiro floundered, mouth flapping open and closed as he tried to cobble together some kind of reasonable answer. Anxiety pulsed through his veins, and his chest ached because he knew what he wanted to say but didn't have the guts to say it. 

_I didn't know how to deal with your vulnerabilities. It made me want to love every inch of you until there was no room for them any more. I didn't know how to deal with my vulnerabilities, because I don't think you want me to love you. Not like that._

“I can't do this,” Shiro said, gritting his teeth. He had to do this.

Lance's eyes widened as he stared at Shiro in dismay. He didn't know what he would do if he lost this – was what they had now, the closest and most far away Shiro had ever felt to Lance, worth all the sneaking around? All the hurting?

_Who was I, before we both worked in tandem to break my heart?_

“I don't want to be your friend, Lance, not in this way,” Shiro choked out, determinedly looking at the scuffed toes of his trainers. He heard Lance suck in a sharp breath, and continued on a rush, “I can't remember how to. I can't even remember what it was like to... to not be in love with you.”

“What,” Lance said, disbelief thick in his voice. It made Shiro feel _sick_.

Shiro couldn't look at him.

“I can't lie to you, and I can't lie to myself.”

“Sh – Shiro, you – ”

“I don't wanna hear it!” he said quickly, shaking his head, “And I'm sorry for just dumping this on you now but you need to know before you decide if you can be around me anymore.”

“Shiro – ”

“And I'm sorry if this changes the way you think of me, but I swear I wasn't just using you for sex. I need you in my life but it hurts so much to pretend what I feel for you doesn't go deeper than that.”

“ _Shiro_ – ”

“But when Keith sent me that thing, I just couldn't hold back because at least you wanted me in some way,” _someone please shut me up oh, my god_ , “and I thought that was good enough but it wasn't and I – ”

“ _TAKASHI_!”

Shiro jumped, head snapping up to look at Lance in shock. His eyes were wet, and he was staring at Shiro with an expression he couldn't place. Moving to stand in front of him, Lance grabbed desperately at his hands.

“I love you,” he said, breathless.

Shiro felt the words like a punch in the gut, and confusion chased that stupid hope on its heels closely. Lance squeezed his fingers, gasping out a laugh through his tears.

“ _Huh_?” he managed, completely dumbfounded. He made a muffled sound of shock when Lance surged forwards, pressing their lips together desperately, their fingers still twined together. It was a warm weight between them, and Shiro pulled back, catching his gaze before Lance threw his arms around Shiro's neck to kiss him again.

Shiro's brain finally caught up to what was going on as Lance kissed him, pressing hard onto his lips, scratching his blunt nails into the longer hair atop his head. Groaning, Shiro wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, bringing them together because there was nothing as important to him as being _closer_ right now.

They broke apart, lips cherry red and spit-slick, and Shiro buried his face in Lance's shoulder with a choked sound, crushing him to his chest.

“I love you,” Shiro rasped, “ _I love you_ , Lance.”

He never knew how good it would feel to say it. It was like a weight had been lifted, and he felt light enough to fucking fly or something because his head was all fuzzy and his tummy was rolling with pure, unadulterated _joy_.

“I thought you hated me,” Lance mumbled, voice shaking. “You just disappeared.”

“We should talk about that,” Shiro said slowly, gently pushing Lance away. They weren't apart for long, though, because Shiro wrapped his arm around Lance's shoulders tightly as he looked down at him. “Let's go home, yeah?”

Lance nodded mutely, linking their hands together.

For the first time in forever, Shiro's heart didn't feel like it was being torn apart.

**

When they made it through the door, Shiro led him into the kitchen and sat Lance down at the table. He made them both a cup of tea, and set the mugs down, taking the seat opposite Lance.

Lance sipped at his tea quietly for a moment, and his face was flushed. Everything felt very strange. It didn't seem _real_ to Shiro just yet. Also, he definitely owed Keith and Matt a drink because they were right. They were _right_ and it was completely insane.

Lance fished his cigarettes out the big pocket in the front of his dungarees, lighting one. Shiro watched him collect himself through the smoke, unwilling to complain about the innocuous little stick because the man in front of him was shaking hard where he held it.

“You've hurt me, Shiro,” Lance said quietly after a long silence, finally meeting his eyes.

“I know,” Shiro said sadly.

“I don't think you have any idea what the past few days have been like for me,” he continued seriously, “The one time I finally open up to someone, and you just bailed on me without any explanation.”

Shiro didn't have any words of benediction, and knew his apology would be meaningless. His actions were wrong, he knew they were even as he committed to them. So he just looked on at Lance, letting him speak. This wasn't his moment.

“The last person who saw me cry was Veronica. I was fifteen,” Lance admitted. “It was when I told her I had a crush on Scott Greenwood in year nine. We were on the football team together.”

“I... didn't know that,” Shiro murmured, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. His relief was palpable when Lance didn't shy away from him.

“That's because I don't tell people the things that matter,” Lance said with a small, hollow smile. “I tell them what they want to hear, to make me likeable. If I told everyone about the things in my life that are depressing as fuck then I'm pretty sure half my mates would run to the hills. Nobody wants me to be the sad friend. I'm the one people come to, to be cheered up. You running away basically confirmed every anxiety I had about that.

“And I was mad at you. I was so, _so_ mad at you for it. I thought you were calling it quits because it got emotional and you wanted it to be fun sex with the fun guy. But... but I've been in love with you for five years, Shiro, and I don't _care_ if I'm being dumb by still wanting you. I don't _care_ if it's stupid of me to still trust you despite what you put me through... and I don't care if you don't love me as much as I love you.”

“Lance,” Shiro said, dismayed. He hated himself for being surprised at the depth of Lance's hurt. “I can't even begin to explain myself. And even if I did, it wouldn't be good enough. I can _say_ I never wanted to hurt you but it's pointless because I _did_ and it tears me up inside. I'd got it in my head that I wasn't good enough and wouldn't make you happy because I was lying to you about how I felt. I didn't mean to ignore you, really, but I ended up stressing out on my own and making a lot of stupid fucking assumptions.”

“Yeah. You did,” Lance said slowly, “I just want to know... more. More about why you did what you did? I dunno, I feel like if you explain it a bit better I'll feel more secure about whatever this could be. My mind is still telling me you fucked off because you weren't interested.”

Shiro winced, but nodded understandingly. “I felt guilty, I guess. I was supposed to be one of your best friends, and I'm in love with you but I couldn't see beyond the walls you put up. When you told me all of that stuff about how you were feeling I just got so angry at myself because I didn't understand how I hadn't _seen_ it before. How could I say I loved you, but not have realised how upset you were? All I could think was, how many times had I rambled on to you about university and how hard it was without noticing how hard it was for you too?” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed at his eyes, annoyed at himself for getting upset because he had no _right_ to be.

“You're allowed to be sad about this,” Lance whispered, reading his mind and Shiro shook his head stubbornly. “It's not like I was prancing around telling people the truth about how I was feeling, hey. I studied drama for two years, for fucks sake, I better be a good actor after all the shit I went through.”

“What,” Shiro began, before clearing his throat, “What shit did you go through?”

Lance smiled ruefully, and then his expression softened when he looked down at where their hands were pressed together on the table.

“I didn't do well first year,” Lance said quietly. “I kinda got swept up in how new everything was, and how cool all my new college friends were that I got behind on my schoolwork and just never really caught back up with it. I barely scraped by to get into A2.” He hesitated before continuing, “My parents were so mad at me, and I was confused about how all my mates had done well when they were messing about just as much as I was . I think they were all just the kind of people who didn't have to put in a lot of effort to do well. And I'm... really _not_.”

“You work so hard,” Shiro said fiercely, “I see how hard you work. There's nothing wrong with that.”

“I do _now_. But I let it all get the better of me back then, you know? It felt like the more I tried to cram everything into my brain the less I remembered, and I freaked,” Lance mumbled, his voice shaking. “I feel like nothing I do is good enough. I thought I wasn't good enough for you to love me, either. The sex was the closest I've ever felt to you and it was fucked up because I was still hiding myself.”

“Oh, Lance,” was all Shiro could say, head tipping to the side in sympathy.

“Do you really love me?” he asked in a rush.

Shiro nodded rapidly, his eyes swimming with tears, “I do. I love you so, _so_ much.”

“ _Why_?” Lance choked out, and Shiro reached out with his other hand to take Lance's in a tight grip, squeezing.

“Because you make me happy, even when you were sad it made me happy that you could rely on me and – and I fucked up _so badly_ by running away from you because I didn't believe I could make you happy to. Because I _want to_ , love, I want to make you the happiest boy alive but I haven't done a very good job of that,” Shiro said.

“I feel like I should be more hurt that you didn't see what I was going through,” Lance rasped, his voice tight from holding back his tears, “But I didn't _let_ you see. You fucked up, but I didn't exactly help the situation by letting you do it. I've confronted you, but I was scared as well. Of rejection, of you telling me you didn't feel the same way let alone want to be my friend any more.”

“I don't just want to be your friend.”

“I don't want you to just be my friend, either,” Lance whispered, meeting his eyes. “And I don't want there to be any boundaries between us any more.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Shiro ran his thumb over Lance's knuckles, taking a second to appreciate the intimacy of it before continuing, “I'll show you for as long as you want me, exactly how much I love you. But I swear to you, I won't run away again. If you give me a second chance,” he added.

“You know I will,” Lance smiled, and his eyes were watery again but this time it didn't make Shiro's chest hurt because it was a genuine smile, and those were happy tears. It was the sort of smile that made his eyes crinkle up endearingly at the corners, and the one dimple on his left cheek made an appearance.

Shiro leaned over the table, bridging the space between them to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He felt the upward curve of Lance's lips and hummed happily, cupping his jaw to angle their heads a little better.

Opening his mouth under Shiro's, Lance curled his tongue and his breath stuttered when Shiro did the same –

“ _Finally_.”

They popped apart quickly, turning to look up at where Pidge was stood in the doorway, smirking.

“Pidge!” Lance protested, covering his face to hide his furious blush. Shiro chuckled, and arched a brow at her challengingly.

“Just saying. Congrats,” She shrugged.

“How did you even _know_?”

“Dude. I was in the living room. You walked straight past me,” She squinted at them, incredulous.

“You blend into the chair, how were we supposed to see you?!” Lance snapped.

“Oh, you did _not_ – ”

“ _Okay_ , time to go,” Shiro butted in, grabbing Lance's wrist to drag him out of the inevitable cat fight.

Lance grinned, clinging to his arm as he was led to the bedroom. “I think we should stop making out in the kitchen.”

Laughing, Shiro nodded and ushered him through the door. Lance had him pressed up against it as soon as it was shut, shoving a thigh between his legs and peppering his cheeks in little butterfly kisses that tickled and made him giggle.

Shiro ducked down to capture his lips, moulding their mouths together in a way that was both comfortingly familiar and excitingly new. Lance's tongue was doing literal wonders for him, and he bent his knees a little, resting more fully back into the door so their were of an even height. Appreciative of the new angle, Lance took the opportunity to kiss the living daylights out of him, letting out this gorgeous breathy noise every time they parted only to come together again with new desperation.

A hand snaked around a groped his ass playfully, and he swatted it away.

“I wanna fuck you,” Lance said suddenly.

Shiro choked on his spit, found himself nodding because that seemed like a very, _very_ good idea. Lance must have realised this, and ground his thigh up hard, pulling a surprised moan from Shiro.

“Yeah, yes, yep, let's – uh, yeah, that's good,” Shiro babbled, head knocking back a little too hard against the door as Lance continued to roll his leg between Shiro's.

“Use your words, big guy,” Lance teased, looking up at him through his lashes, the picture of innocence.

“Want you to fuck me,” Shiro blurted, “Really. Really, really, really want you to.”

“Really really?”

“ _Really_.”

“Oh, my God, you're such a fucking geek. Get on the bed,” Lance laughed, shaking his head as he stepped back, yanking off his shirt. Shiro followed suit, toeing out of his trousers before settling on the edge of mattress nervously. It had been a while for him, but he knew Lance would treat him right. His endless forgiveness for Shiro's transgressions, the soft press of his lips to his pulse were enough of an indication of that.

Lance stepped forward, completely stripped and when faced with all that beautiful dark skin, pulled taught over lithe musculature, Shiro couldn't help but stare. Sure, they'd seen each other naked before but this was different. He could touch now, he could _touch_ and _worship_ and _love_ and didn't have to feel like he was being a creep about it.

So when he ran his hands over the toned muscles of Lance's stomach, he had to fight with every bit of willpower in him not to fucking cry or something horrendously embarrassing like that. Lance cupped his cheek, biting his lips as he looked down at him with tender eyes.

“Love you,” he said simply.

“I love you, too,” Shiro replied, not missing a beat.

Lance moved to straddle his thighs, hooking his elbow around to back of Shiro's neck and reeling him in for a quick peck.

“Can I try something new today?” Lance asked.

“Shoot.”

“Can I eat you out?” Lance said brazenly.

“U – um,” Shiro hesitated, flushing. Lance looked down at him curiously, fingers stroking the nape of his neck soothingly.

“You not into it?” he said, voice gentle. There was no pressure here. It was just Lance voicing his desires, and Shiro knew he wouldn't be mad if he said no. But Shiro didn't want to say no. He very much wanted to experience this with Lance, with his _boyfriend_.

“I'm not _not_ into it,” Shiro mumbled stupidly.

“So... you want me to?” Lance pressed.

“Yeah,” Shiro nodded, smiling shyly up at him. “I just, uh, I haven't shaved?”

“You're kidding me,” Lance barked, rolling his eyes. He rested his weight more fully on Shiro's lap, smiling in something that was very close to exasperation.

“No?”

“You think I'm fucked off by that?” His eyes twinkled mischievously, and Shiro's heart stuttered in his chest. He hoped Lance never stopped making his heart feel like it wasn't working properly because it was a feeling he had grown to adore. “Would you turn me down because I didn't shave my ass?”

“No!” Shiro said, affronted, “Of course not!”

“Then why would _I_?”

“Fair play,” he conceded, and wriggled a little when Lance's hands moved to palm at his ass appreciatively.

“So... can I eat you out now?”

Shiro nodded rapidly, gently easing Lance off him so he could shuffle further up the bed on his back. He was still wearing his briefs, and was half-hard already because _genuinely who wouldn't be_ with Lance in front of them completely starkers, serious conversations be damned. He spread his legs, hoping he looked something close to appealing.

Aforementioned stunningly gorgeous man made his way onto the mattress after Shiro, settling between his thighs with a dazed expression that made the part of Shiro that was a gym slut go 'this is why I never skipped leg day. For this exact moment right here.'

Lance toyed with the waistband of his boxers for a second before leaning down to lick a hot stripe over the clothed outline of his cock. Shiro huffed out a nervous breath, head thudding back because if he watched Lance do that he might actually come in his pants.

“No,” Lance said softly, and Shiro shuddered when he realised he could feel the lips move around the word on his cock which was weird but also super hot – “ _Look at me_. I want you to watch me.”

“When did you suddenly get talkative,” Shiro said, strained, but he complied. Resting up on his elbows, he lifted his hips and kept his eyes trained on Lance as he tugged his boxers off.

“When I didn't have to worry that I was gonna yell my undying love in your face,” Lance grumbled.

“Honestly, _same_.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lance laughed, “I _knew_ you'd be a chatty bastard.”

“Oh, you have _no_ idea,” Shiro smirked, sighing when Lance finally lowered his head, his breath ghosting over his dick before he had a tongue slicking up the side of it until it was coaxed into full hardness. Only then did he trail his lips down, then further down still until they were brushing intimately over him. It was intense, to say the least, when Lance pressed a wet kiss against him.

The sensation stole his breath, and Shiro knew this was going to be like nothing he'd ever experienced before. A curious tongue flickered out, laving hot stripes and making Shiro's thighs tremble where he tried to focus on keeping them open. No jokes, Keith had once made Shiro squash a honey melon between his thighs and he had several _very_ unsexy visions of the same thing happening to Lance's head if he wasn't careful.

Shiro moaned, abandoned, when Lance's tongue pushed more firmly against his ass, then pressing deliciously _in_.

It was warm and wet and oh fuck, so _good_.

“G – god, it feels amazing,” Shiro gasped, arching his back, shivering when Lance groaned in response to his words. “You're the – _aah_ – the first to do this to me, fuck, _Lance_!” Lance was currently fucking his tongue, messy and perfect, into him with these ridiculously pornographic smacking noises because he was speeding up under the influence of Shiro's words. It was heady rush to know he was affecting Lance like that, spurring him on just by _talking_.

Shiro bucked his hips in surprise when he wormed a finger in alongside his tongue, creating two points of intense sensation that moved in two incredibly different ways. His finger crooked, seeking, and within a few seconds he'd clocked on to that point of pleasure inside of Shiro and pressed against it relentlessly once he'd found it. His mouth was lapping and sucking behind it, making him feel like he was melting inside and outside. Shiro could feel Lance's drool sliding between his crack and making the whole situation noisier and wetter and –

“Stop, stop, _stop_!” he wailed.

Lance sat up immediately, wiping his chin and looking at Shiro with wide eyes.

“What's wrong?” he breathed, rubbing a soothing hand over the inside of Shiro's thigh.

“I was gonna come,” Shiro managed, chest heaving.

“And that's bad... why?”

“Want to come while you're inside of me,” Shiro panted, and he gripped at Lance's shoulder to haul him up. Lance wiped his mouth again before pressing a quick kiss to his mouth, his eyes blown out and cloudy.

“Why have you never spoken to me before during sex?” Lance demanded, shaking his head. His cheeks were pink and pretty, lips shiny with spit and Shiro had to take a hot second to collect himself a the sight.

“Because I was worried about yelling my undying love in your face,” Shiro mimicked, and Lance laughed fondly before rummaging around in the bedside table for lube and condoms.

“Touché,” Lance said around a smile before he pressed into Shiro with a slick finger again, taking him by surprise. He had been relaxed from Lance's tongue, but tightened up immediately at the much wetter intrusion and Lance placed soothing kisses against his chest, humming appreciatively. The steady pulse of his finger, dragging in and out and catching on his sensitive skin in a steady rhythm, was enough for him to chill out after a while. He relaxed his body, the tension rolling off his in waves in the face of Lance's tenderness.

“Another,” Shiro said finally, and nodded rapidly when Lance pushed back in with a second finger, crooking them back to where he knew Shiro needed them most. Sparks pinged off behind his eyelids, and he groaned as Lance twisted the pads of his fingers over his prostate with startling confidence.

“You look _so_ good right now, I can't even explain,” Lance rasped out, working his wrist with newfound enthusiasm.

“Well, you can take the credit for that,” Shiro managed, flexing his hips down into his movements.

“ _Happily_ ,” Lance chuckled.

Apparently he was doing better than he thought, because it wasn't long before Lance had made the executive decision to gently push into him with three, and although the stretch was acute it wasn't painful. The tension of him pulled taught around that hand just fuelled his pleasure further.

There wasn't much more of the hypnotic rhythm of Lance's fingers he could take before he was gonna come, and he grasped at his wrist to tug him out.

“'M ready. I want you,” Shiro whispered, and Lance's eyes darkened impossibly further.

Lance fumbled for the condoms, rolling it onto himself with a generous slick of lube before leaning over Shiro. He was worrying at his bottom lip, gripping the base of himself hard and Shiro tipped his chin up to kiss him, swiping his tongue in a silent acceptance of what Lance had to give him.

The blunt head of Lance's cock pressed against him, catching on his rim before easing inside. Shiro's breath caught in his throat, and his moaned helplessly when they made eye contact through the entire slow push in.

Once Lance was fully seated, his balls resting heavy against Shiro's ass, they gasped their pleasure and rocked together, neither of them ready to move just yet. Shiro felt like he was burning up, being consumed by Lance from the inside out and it was _perfect_. The curve of his cock settled inside him, twitching heavily every time Shiro let out his breaths, coloured with quiet sounds of happiness.

When Lance finally started moving, Shiro felt every drag of Lance's cock inside of him intensely, lighting his nerve endings on fire. Whining, he ran his hands through Lance's soft curls and dragged him back down for a kiss that was all tongues and no tactics.

The whipcord muscles of Lance's arms were pulled taught as he kept himself upright above Shiro, abs flexing with every sinuous roll of his hips. Shiro's head lolled to the side as he focused on moving in sync, arching his body down every time Lance thrust back in slowly, deeply.

“Wanna – can I ride you?” Shiro asked, hands slipping in the thin sheen of sweat on Lance's back from his exertion.

“Yes,” Lance moaned, nodding, “Fuck _yeah_.”

He pulled out, and settled with his back against the headboard. Shiro moved to straddle him, pushing a pillow behind Lance with a knowing smile when he flushed at the act.

When he sunk down onto Lance's cock this time, he had to adjust himself because the new angle felt different and deeper and way more intense. Especially with the way his thighs were already trembling as they kept him elevated on the slow slide down.

He pressed his forehead to Lance's shoulder with a shuddering sigh, licking mindlessly at the skin he found there as Lance's hands swept down the curve of his spine reverently. Lance was panting, blue eyes wide and full of adoration when Shiro fucked himself down with a little too much force. But it felt so, so _good_ and he wanted to chase that pleasure with everything in him.

“Your cock is perfect,” Shiro gasped, slamming himself down with a short cry. It was good but it wasn't _enough_ and he kept moving at that impatient pace because he didn't understand _why_ he couldn't get to the edge. He was vibrating from the intensity of it, body quaking violently from the desperation in his movements. Lance's hips were bucking up in aborted thrusts, palming appreciatively at Shiro's ass. “You're _so_ perfect for me, _please_ I want to come, please pl – _aah_ , _please_.”

Lance moaned, but shook his head, hands resting on Shiro's hips and keeping him down when he tried to lift himself up again. Shiro was surprised at the strength in the movement, because he was straining hard against it but Lance wasn't budging.

“I can get you there,” Lance said, voice soft. “You gotta listen to me, though. Be a good boy, yeah?”

Shiro choked on a whine at the pet name, and stopped fighting him, resting heavily on Lance's hips. He grunted in frustration when Lance didn't move, and tried to push against him again.

“ _Lance_ ,” he hissed.

“No, baby,” Lance whispered, brushing his lips against Shiro's.

“Then, _what_?” Shiro gritted out, the need to find his release grating against his desire to follow Lance's instructions.

“Go slower,” he said, and the meaning was not lost on Shiro. After their rougher first time, quick and dirty and over too quickly, they needed to make this last. They needed to make _love_. Shiro was impatient, but he knew the slower, deeper drag of Lance's cock inside of him would make the orgasm worth it.

So he rocked back and forth tentatively, testing the waters and Lance sighed happily as he swayed his hips in tandem. Eventually, Lance let Shiro lift himself up ever so slowly, only to grind up _hard_ whenever he dropped down and rubbing his cock _directly_ over Shiro's prostate every time. He wondered if Lance might be disappointed that Shiro had apparently lost the ability to move on his own, had lost any and all language inside of himself and was instead left with inarticulate cries that could have started as a name but finished in a moan.

Lance didn't sound upset at all when he choked out, “I'm so close – fuck, _Takashi_.”

Shiro's eyes flew open in surprise, hearing his name for the second time that day. An entirely different situation, but the intent behind it was the same and something in Shiro snapped at having his first name pushed into his ear with a hot breath, like an elastic band pulled too tight.

It was earth shattering, when he finally came, and he clenched hard around Lance's cock, gasping at the feeling of that hardness lodged inside of him while his come splattered both of their chest.

“Lance, Lance, _Lance_ ,” he chanted, using every last drop of concentration he had to keep himself pulled taught around his cock so Lance could experience the _extraordinary_ level of bliss he just had.

“O – Oh, _fuck_!” Lance shouted after bucking up a few more times, thrusting up hard and finding new spaces inside of Shiro he didn't know he even _had_ as he came.

They sat for an eternity and a second all at once, cradled in each other's arms and Shiro sniffed, suddenly overwhelmed.

“I love you,” he said, because he _could_ and he wanted Lance to hear it again and again and again until he was sick of it.

“I know,” Lance said, “I love you, too.”

**

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Two Years Later_

 

Shiro woke up to the smell of fresh coffee, bacon and fabric softener.

Sunday mornings were his favourite day.

He was adamant there was nothing in this sweet world he'd rather wake up to, because it meant Lance was home and busying himself around their little studio flat while he left Shiro to wake up on his own. He could hear faint singing drifting over from the kitchenette, the radio played quietly alongside Lance's voice and buzzed with static every once in a while.

All the windows were open, a warm spring breeze floating through their home, coloured with the harsh sound of pigeons cooing that Shiro had unexpectedly come to love about inner-city living.

He coughed quietly as he sat up, and smiled softly to hear to patter of feet moving towards him. Lance poked his head around the standing screens which acted as a meagre bedroom wall, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed when he knew Shiro was fully awake.

“Morning, baby,” Lance murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek with deceptive gentleness until he scrubbed their scruffy cheeks together with a cackle. Now, Shiro didn't not squeal. Real men did not _squeal_ when their beanpole boyfriends gave them stubble rash at eight AM, but it was a close call.

Laughing, Shiro grabbed him and planted a slobbery kiss on his mouth before blowing out a breath into his face.

“Ew, ew, ew, get your _stank_ away from me, you _beast_!” Lance shrieked, delighted, pushing him away. “I made you a full breakfast and this is how you repay me?!”

“Oh?” Shiro paused, “What's the occasion?”

“Does there need to be?” Lance arched a brow.

“Mmm, no. 'S just rare you cook for me, is all,” Shiro smiled, slipping out of bed and stretching. When he looked back to Lance, he found him swaddled in the duvet with so much adoration in his eyes it almost knocked Shiro breathless. “What?” he asked.

“Love you,” Lance shrugged, “But your eggies are getting cold so move those leggies!”

He hopped out of bed after Shiro, towing him past the screens, and towards their little two-seater table. Lance had insisted they had to have a flat where their table would fit under the windowsill, so they could get some sun in the mornings when they ate together. Sadly, the only place they could find in their price range with Lance's job as a dancing instructor's assistant was a tiny little studio flat crammed over a charity shop in town centre. But Shiro had grown to love their little home.

Right now, it was set up neatly with a fresh pot of coffee, apple juice and steaming plates of breakfast. God, he didn't deserve him. He almost couldn't believe they'd been together for so long now, after the shitshow that had happened. Shiro felt unendingly blessed to still have Lance in his life, let alone share a heart and a home with him.

“Lance?” Shiro asked once they'd finished eating, watching as Lance dumped their plates in the sink. He moved to stand next to Shiro, smoothing a warm hand over his neck as he looked down at him.

“What's up? You look very serious,” Lance smiled.

“We should get a cat,” Shiro said, without thinking much of anything. He stared up evenly at a shell-shocked-looking Lance.

“Are... are you _serious_?” Lance breathed, grabbing Shiro's face between his hands and tilting it up so he could figure out if he was joking.

Shiro licked his lips nervously because he knew what his own thought process was. Lance had been after a pet for a few months now, and while they weren't quite at _marriage_ stage he felt comfortable making a different kind of commitment for now. Shiro wasn't ready to pluck up the courage to snag a fiancé, but he _was_ ready to start laying the foundations for a fuller future. A cat seemed like a more appropriate place to start than a ring.

“Yeah,” he nodded finally. “We can call it a late birthday present for me.”

Lance whooped in delight, kissing his cheeks soundly with a wide grin.

“I love you so much!” he told Shiro, “I can't believe you actually gave in!”

“I'm willing to sacrifice my hatred of cat hair for your happiness,” Shiro said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Can we get _two_ cats?” Lance asked slyly.

“Don't push your luck!”

Pouting, Lance stepped away and moved towards the washing up again. He threw a coy look over his shoulder, eyes bright. “I don't think I could get any luckier than I already am, so I'll take my chances.”

Beyond the warm fuzzies those words sent curling through him, was a faint feeling of resignation.

Shiro was _definitely_ going to be buying Lance two cats.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I fic-catfished u all by putting all those jokes in the first chap then following it up with this monstrosity 
> 
> if you enjoyed, please consider leavings kudos/a comment! :--)   
> you can find me on [my tumblr](http://eatjamfast.tumblr.com/) for a chat! 
> 
> (catch my muffled screaming when I accidently closed the document SECONDS after I finished editing this the first time so sorry if editing is a bit sloppy I was SO OVER IT)

**Author's Note:**

> in the kitchen scene Lance is dancing to 'I'm a freak' ft pitbul AKA possibly the most sensational pop hit of 2k14
> 
> Next chapter will be Shiro's POV :--) I'm going to try finish it next week but i'm suuuuuper sick atm (we're having a cold snap in england atm and my immune system is made out of tissue paper SO)
> 
> feel free to hmu on [my tumblr](http://eatjamfast.tumblr.com/) anytime for a chat!!!!!


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